


Bucky Fixes Steve's House

by wordsphoenix



Series: Steve and Bucky have a house now [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BUCKY LIVES IN STEVE'S HOUSE NOW, Brooklyn boys gettin' those therapies gettin' them warm fuzzies in the house Steve built them, Bucky POV is next in the series so stay tuned for that my loves, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Steve POV, THIS WHOLE FIC IS MOSTLY DOMESTIC FLUFF, That's right, Therapy, This is part two of Steve getting the Help He Needs and Building a Life for Himself, aka Steve Builds a House, and nap, and please skip the first half of ch 5, because I shit you not this fic is mostly banter, because the marriage jokes are only half joking let's be honest, if you want to avoid anything medical you can bow out at the end of ch 4, just read the warning notes at the beginning of chapters please, lots of sleeping, occasional serious discussions, the series is for sure going to be at least four works long I'm not kidding, they are in it for life, they need rest, they sleep so much, you are safe after the first asterisk in ch 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-13 18:50:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15371052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsphoenix/pseuds/wordsphoenix
Summary: After Bucky shows up on the doorstep of Steve's housewarming party, he stays. And doesn't leave. Which is all Steve could ever ask for ever, especially now that he's recovered enough to start considering the future beyond what he's having for breakfast tomorrow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I'm trying to stick to the same update schedule as before, and, like I said, I have four stories planned and this is only number two so come with me and you'll see a world of puuuuurrrreeee domestic Steve and Bucky fluff.

            “I can’t believe you hung out without me.” Steve didn’t actually feel betrayed. Damn if he wasn’t gonna put on a show, though. They were sitting around the dining room table after destroying the last few scraps of pizza, and Tony might have paid for the stuff but Steve wasn’t going to let him off for the surprise party that easily.

            “You didn’t think we’d let him in your house without talking to him first, did you?” Tony looked like he wasn’t buying Steve’s betrayal act.

            Steve screwed up his face and hoped that would help. “That logic doesn’t even make sense! Last you knew I was the only one safe to go near him, remember?”

            Normally Bucky would be telling Steve to stop talking about him like he wasn’t there, but he could still read Steve like a book. Hell, Steve was lucky Buck wasn’t giving him away by smirking.

            Tony looked a little convinced. Maybe. “If we thought that we wouldn’t have let him back in the country.”

            Bucky snorted. “Like you woulda been able to stop me.”

            Nat was watching the whole thing like a tennis match. “No offense, Barnes, but I think I can take you.”

            Buck rolled his eyes. “Right, yeah, like I’d be stupid enough to let you know I was coming.”

            Nat smiled. “So you think I can take you?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not really in the mood to test it right now. We’d break Steve’s Iron Man picture.”

            Tony huffed. “I know you got that just to annoy me, by the way.”

            “Like you don’t deserve it.” Steve was still playing upset. He thought he was doing pretty well.

            Until Pepper said, “Would you two knock it off so we can vote on cupcakes?”

            The table fell silent. Bruce raised his hand. “I think we should cut them at least in half. It’s more democratic.”

            Clint narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you were a socialist.”

            “Fair is fair,” Bruce said solemnly. “And there’s always democratic socialism.”

            “I vote we attack them with forks until they are eaten,” Thor said.

            Bucky nodded. “I agree with that plan.”

            “That’s not fair to the non-enhanced people in the room,” Pepper countered, and Bucky crossed his arms in defeat.

            “Why don’t we just go around and each take one, and then reverse the order. Whoever gets first choice gets last choice. Everybody gets at least two,” Sam added, frowning down at the impressive array of cupcakes.

            “I think that’s fair let’s do that me first,” Clint said, and took the cupcake with PopRocks on it.

            “That was the only one,” Nat whined.

            Clint smirked at her. “I’ll let you try it.”

            “Should’ve got more of those,” Sam muttered, and chose a cupcake with coconut shavings and a tiny umbrella on top.

            They did not come to blows over the cupcakes, and after they were eaten Tony demanded the tour Steve had forgotten about in the shock of seeing Bucky again. Steve led them back to the front of the house and then took them through every room on the first floor, answering the occasional question.

            When they got to the back bedroom Clint flung himself onto the bed. “Yeah, this is good. Bruce, come over here.” He patted the other side.

            Bruce, who hadn’t taken his shoes off the second he walked in the house like Nat and Clint had, toed them off before getting next to Clint. “Where’s the remote?”

            “Bedside table,” Clint replied, already playing with his.

            “Better than a hospital bed, right?” Steve offered.

            “Waaaaaaay better,” Clint said, raising the head until he was sitting. “No bedpans.”

            “Figured you’d want to pee on your own. Or, you know, as on your own as you could get. Not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” Steve added.

            “That was one time!” Tony yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. “Once! Now show me my lab.”

            “It’s not a lab,” Steve said. “And the whole team is here. And no one gets dibs. So you might have to share.”

            “Shooting range,” Bucky and Clint said at once. Then they narrowed their eyes at each other.

            Steve shook his head. “The tower has a shooting range. You are not putting one in my basement.”

            “He says that now,” Bucky muttered as Steve led them to the stairs.

            The basement was an upstairs-shaped concrete box with a few storm windows. Tony declared it perfect, what exactly for he didn’t say, and then demanded to see the other bathrooms. Though there wasn’t much upstairs, Steve had gotten furniture and blankets and paint in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The other one was empty, save for a plush rug and a blanket nest on the floor, which Nat gladly jumped into the second she saw it. The penguin blanket was in attendance.

            “I love it,” Nat said. “This is my room. Finders keepers. I guess some of you can sleep here if you want, but I get total say on the addition of blankets. Where’d you get this one?” She held up the corner of the penguins.

            Steve grinned. “Christmas clearance.”

            “It’s July,” Bucky said, incredulous.

            “That’s why it was on sale.” Steve got a shove from Bucky for that one. He didn’t mind, though. It was more playful than super soldiery.

            Tony cleared his throat loudly and pulled his sunglasses seemingly out of nowhere. “Okay. Alright. We’ve seen the place, we’ve eaten you out of house and home, but you don’t have a projector, and it was a bit rude for me not to call ahead about being late, so-”

            Steve blinked and realized he hadn’t bought any clocks. “What time is it?”

            “Late enough. Pushing ten. Early day for Pepper tomorrow, we have to get to bed-”

            Pepper snorted. “Like you won’t be in the lab half the night anyway.”

            “I was planning on catching some zs and waking up from a traumatic nightmare at four. I know not even you would get up that early, unless it was for an international flight, but don’t worry, I won’t set an alarm, nightmares are like clockwork-”

            “You should try melatonin,” Sam suggested.

            “I’ll send one of the interns to Walgreens now. It’ll be there by the time we get back to the tower. And I’m giving rides. So, sorry to kick you out, but-” Tony swept an apologetic glance around the room and shrugged.

            Sam looked appreciative. “I paid for a ride because of the cupcakes, but I don’t have anywhere else to be. And, you know, I could always spot you some melatonin. No need to send some poor intern out to-”

            “Sorry, Jarvis already did it.” Steve heard Jarvis reply, “Jones will return from Walgreens shortly, sir,” and from the smirk on Bucky’s face, he probably heard, too.

            Then Steve realized that them all leaving meant it was time for him and Bucky to talk. Alone. Which was all he’d wanted back in the sitting room hours ago but did not seem as great of a prospect now because it made his stomach drop even though he knew he was being stupid and it was just Bucky.

            The others mercifully made small talk on their way back downstairs. Clint agreed to accept the ride back to the tower if he got to sit in the sunroof. When Tony informed him there was no sunroof he asked to sit on the actual roof.

            “No,” Pepper and Bruce said at exactly the same time.

            “It’s a five-seater, anyway. You guys will be jammed enough as it is, and I don’t feel like sitting in the trunk. Nat’ll give me a piggyback ride.”

            When everyone looked at Nat, she shrugged. “Could use the exercise. Pizza and cupcakes are a little much even for my metabolism.”

            A few minutes later Steve was waving from the doorstep, Buck hovering in the entry behind him. Everyone but Nat and Clint piled into Tony’s car and headed to the tower; Nat and Clint took off in the opposite direction.

            Steve shut the door and turned to face Bucky.

            Bucky’s expression was so calm Steve almost jumped when he saw it. “You don’t need to look so scared, Steve. I meant it. I know we’ll figure it out.”

            Steve sighed. “It’s not that late. We should talk a little, at least.”

            Bucky smiled. “Therapy’s been doing you good, pal.”

            “Ahh, shut up,” Steve said, leading the way to the kitchen. He could have gone anywhere, but the kitchen just felt right. It was the place they always went to talk.

            And the table had two chairs.

            Steve sat with his back to the garage door, figuring the nearest exit’d be better for Buck to watch as long as he knew Steve had his six. He rested his arms on the table; Bucky had done the same. Half-serious and half-not, being Buck’s mirror. Helped diffuse some of Steve’s nervous energy, at least.

            “What are we talking about, Stevie?”

            Steve laughed. “I don’t know. You’re staying here.”

            “Yep.”

            “So I want to make sure you’re comfortable. And that if there’s anything I need to know- to help you, or avoid, or anything like that.”

            Bucky sighed. “I’m thawed, Stevie. I’m not gonna shatter.” When Steve caught his breath, Bucky added, “What?”

            “You keep calling me ‘Stevie.’”

            “You keep calling me ‘Buck.’” Uncertainty crept into his next words, “Steve, if you’re not ready to-”

            “No.” Steve held up his hands. “It isn’t that. I was just surprised.”

            The corner of Bucky’s mouth tipped up in a rueful smile. “Didn’t think I’d remember, did you?”

            “I didn’t think anything. I just didn’t want to go too fast.” Steve hadn’t meant to say it, not really, but it was true. They’d been apart years for Steve and twice as many for Bucky. Could have been yesterday, far as Steve was concerned, but he certainly wasn’t the same man and he knew Bucky wasn’t, either.

            Then Bucky asked, “Is that for you, or for me? Taking it slow, I mean.”

            Steve smiled a little. “Both.”

            “Okay, then,” Bucky said, nudging Steve’s foot under the table. “First one to the top of the stairs is a good-for-nothing _punk_!” And before Steve could so much as blink, Bucky was sprinting towards the stairs.

            Steve lost a second to surprise and ended up a whole stair and a half behind Bucky. He considered reaching out and trying to trip him up, but Steve really did like his house and didn’t want to break anything if he could help it.

            “You lost,” Buck laughed. He’d sidestepped at the top of the stairs so Steve didn’t crash into him, but he was right there waiting.

            “You cheated,” Steve said.

            Bucky shrugged.

            “Okay, okay. Did you want the clothes now or later?”

            “Can I get a fancy shower first?”

            Steve headed into his room to grab Bucky something clean. Bucky followed, lingering in the doorway. Steve held up two shirts. “Red or blue?”

            “Got any green?”

            Steve had one green shirt, a dark heather one he almost never wore because it reminded him a bit too much of fatigues; he threw it to Bucky. “That work?”

            “Only if you’ve got matching pants.”

            Steve chucked him some plaid and a pair of fresh underwear and nodded to the hall. “There’s stuff under the counter. Pick any bedroom you want, alright?”

            Bucky’s eyes cut to Steve’s bed for a second before he disappeared. “I’m leaving the door open. You know, case I think of anything important to tell you.”

            “Right,” Steve said. “Me too, then.”

            Even with two showers running at once, they could still hear each other at normal speaking volume. At first they talked about nothing; after a while they started testing how quiet they could be and still hear each other, and they kept whispering stupid insults back and forth until both showers were turned off.

            Bucky met him in his doorway again. “Did you have a good shower?” His voice was only a bit quieter than normal volume.

            “Didn’t drown. How was yours?”

            “It was nice.” Bucky looked down and back up. “We match.”

            “You’re green, I’m blue.”

            “We coordinate, then,” Bucky amended, poking Steve in the chest. “Did you meant what you said about any bedroom?”

            “Yep.”

            “Good,” Bucky said. Then he was in Steve’s room, and past Steve, and on the bed, and snuggled with the covers up to his chin. On his side of the bed. “After that shit you pulled in the sitting room, I could hardly stand to be three feet from you, and-”

            “Oh, come here,” Steve said, burrowing into his half like he’d never left.

            God, it felt good to be close to Bucky again.

            “That’s my line! I was here first.” Bucky flung his right arm out to find something on the nightstand, which he then threw at the light switch, successfully turning it off.

            Steve laughed, wriggled further under the covers, and slid an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Thanks for getting the light. Though if you didn’t keep doing things so goddamned fast-”

            “Fast? I thought we were taking it slow. This is slow. Haven’t even tried to tongue you yet.” This was especially entertaining given Bucky was clinging to Steve like a starfish.

            Steve didn’t mind. “Gross.”

            “You’re the one who hasn’t brushed your teeth!”

            “Oh, and you did?”

            “Yes.”

  
            “Funny, didn’t hear the water running.”

            Bucky laughed. “You’re right I didn’t.”

            “Won’t do anything anyway. Super teeth. And I don’t want to move.”

            “Me, neither.”

            They slept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING BIT: discussion of therapy (no sessions or anything) and Bucky discusses his mental state with Steve- gets serious but only explicit about general feeling of anger

            Steve felt like he was floating when he opened his eyes.

            It was kind of weird, because he was warm and safe in bed with Bucky wrapped around him and nothing had ever felt more solid and sure than that moment, but Steve was so lightheaded by the sight of him he started beaming the second his eyes were open.

            “Hi,” Bucky said, own eyes still closed.

            “Hi,” Steve said.

            “You’re staring like a lovesick idiot, aren’t you?”

            Steve’s heart jumped a little at the word. Still, though. Not the time. Buck was just teasing. “Yes.”  
            “You gonna quit it anytime soon?”

            “No.”

            “Make me breakfast.”

            “I’d have to put you down for that,” Steve reasoned.

            “Not necessarily.”

            Steve laughed. “Okay. But can I pee first?”

            “Honestly, you’re the gross one, I don’t know why-”

            Steve pulled away and stumbled to the bathroom. He might still be a little dizzy. “It’s not my fault Nat made me chug a whole two liters of root beer last night!”

            “You did it on a dare,” Bucky said, “so, while she should have known better, it technically was your fault- Oh, gross!”

            Steve hadn’t shut the door all the way and was already peeing. He’d been measuring their level of intimacy at ‘friends but with much more physical closeness’ and Bucky hadn’t seemed to have a problem with that. “Do you want me to close the door next time?”

            “You know I don’t care.”

            “Like we’re best friends don’t care or you really just couldn’t give less of a shit?” Steve flushed the toilet and went to wash his hands.

            “Um, both, but it seemed like we had a good thing going and I’m not about to change it.”

            Satisfied, Steve dried his hands and went back into their bedroom. He was already thinking of it as _theirs_. Christ. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

            “So you’re gonna make breakfast with me hanging onto you like a baby sloth, right?”

            “Yep,” Steve said. “But my mouth actually feels gross now so we’re brushing our teeth first.”

            “The Winter Soldier doesn’t get cavities,” Bucky muttered, but he accepted the new toothbrush anyway.

            Once they were minty fresh, Steve turned around and stuck out his arms. Bucky leapt onto his back, Steve grabbed his legs for support, and they went downstairs to make breakfast. Or, rather, for Steve to make it while Bucky hung onto him like a baby sloth.

*

            Steve’s disbelieving euphoria faltered a teeny tiny bit when he remembered it was Wednesday and Wednesday was appointment day.

            “That’s fine. Want me to come with you?”

            Steve flipped through fifteen emotions in a split second. In the end he just said, “What?”

            Buck remained unfazed. “I can sit in the waiting room.”

            Steve took a moment to process this, because Bucky was giving it to him. “You sure?”

            Bucky nodded.

            “Okay,” Steve said.

            They walked to the office. Steve always walked because being outside made him feel free and he didn’t think he could handle all the people on public transportation anyway. Buck didn’t say a thing about it. When Steve got called back he grabbed Steve’s hand and squeezed and said, “I’ll be right here,” and the way he said it was all calm and sure and quiet, so only Steve could hear it even though the room was empty anyway.

            “You good?” Bucky asked when Steve came out.

            “Yeah,” Steve said, almost smiling, “I’m good.”

            And then they walked back to Steve’s house, and maybe it wasn’t just Steve’s house anymore.

*

            Bucky waited ‘til the next day to lay it all on Steve.

            “I didn’t know you had appointments on Wednesdays, and I didn’t want to do this to you right away, either, I just- I think you should know.”

            They were sitting at the kitchen table again. Steve’s hands were flat on the table, because Bucky never got that look on his face when he wasn’t talking about something important. And Steve knew it was important. Because Bucky had opened with ‘there are some things I need to tell you,’ which, in their case, could only be important.

            Steve waited.

            Buck took a breath. “I’m sort of okay, now, but I’m not- I was okay getting here, and I can walk around in public and stuff, but I- I’m not really good with people, yet.”

            Steve nodded and opened his mouth, but Bucky held out a hand.

            “I know you’ve got stuff, too, Stevie. But it’s not like that. And I didn’t- I know you don’t think you know everything, it’s not that, I just- some of it’s hard to explain. I have to explain it for you to understand some parts, though. So I’m gonna try.”

            Steve kept his expression as open as possible and didn’t try to interrupt.

            “Okay,” Bucky said, “okay.” Deep inhalation. “The first thing you need to know is that I’m still dangerous. I know you’ll argue with me all day about that one. But think about it. You’re dangerous when you get upset, aren’t you? I don’t mean it in a bad way, we just- we’re strong. Strong enough that we forget our own strength. And it’s not that I forget, necessarily, where I am or what I can do, I just- I can get overwhelmed. But I’m not so much a danger to me when I do that. I don’t shut down. It’s more like I turn off.”

            Another deep breath. “It’s more like I get so upset I don’t care anymore. And that’s not to say- there were consequences. There were always consequences. But there’s this anger, this rage, and even when they took everything else that was something that didn’t go away, it just-” deep breath through gritted teeth. “It just didn’t. And I know now that’s important, I know it means I was still a person even after everything they did to me. But it can be destructive. I can hurt people even if I don’t mean to. It’s not like getting lost in my head, I still know where I am, it just- sometimes it’s too much. Knowing what they did to me. Sometimes it’s too much even though I made it out. Sometimes making it out isn’t enough to make the anger go away.”

            Steve hadn’t moved. It was clear Buck was waiting for a reaction, though, so he said, “That’s okay. Go on. And I know what you mean, I think. I used to get that way, too. Mad at the world. Mad at everything. But now I stop caring in a way where there’s nothing. Like the rage is too tired.”

            Bucky nodded. Steve had told him about his depression, he wasn’t gonna bring Buck to a goddamned therapy appointment and not let him know what it was about. And Steve was listening. Steve knew Buck was suggesting _Steve_ when he’d clarified that he wasn’t a ‘danger to himself.’ Steve was. He had bad days. He’d had to tell Buck that. You didn’t let someone sleep in your bed and not tell them that.

            Bucky took another breath. “Right. I thought it might be like that, like you were before. Only this is… raw. Scary. It scares me. And things can’t, not after-” it was the first time he cut off, the first time Steve could see Buck was incapable of saying any more. And that was okay. He took a deep breath again and went on, “And with the war. After everything, it’s hard to make me really scared. So for something to do that, something inside me, and for it to be something I know didn’t come from them and that will never go away, it’s… hard.

            “But I would never hurt anyone, Stevie. Not intentionally. You have to know that.”

            “I know,” Steve said. “I know you’re not you and I’m not me, but we still are. We’re just different Bucky and different Steve. And I know no part of you would ever want to hurt someone. Not that way. Not… blind rage.”

            Bucky’s mouth was set, like he disagreed, but before Steve could bring it up Bucky said, “Okay. So you know that. That I don’t want to hurt people, not innocent people, not ever again. But I can. You know that, right? I can. Something can set me off, I can see something or hear something and remember what they did to me and just-” deep deep breath. “It’s happened before. Not often, just- I broke a wall. Punched clean through it. With my right hand. I think I used that one because I was so mad about the left one I woulda torn it off-” Bucky was staring off, but he came back when Steve flinched. “Sorry. Sorry. But I need you to know that.”

            Just like Steve had needed Buck to know he couldn’t get out of bed some days. “I’ll do everything I can. To make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

            An unexpected smile pulled at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “You make me feel so safe. Even when you were small, god, I feel so safe with you…” inhale exhale. Just like he taught Steve when he couldn’t breathe. Just like Steve taught him, after Azzano. “Anyway. I’m not gonna do any damage, not if I can help it. But I don’t want to put anyone in danger. If I don’t feel right, if I’m having a bad day, I can’t trust many people to keep an eye on me. And I hate to ask you to do that, but-”

            “Of course I will, Buck.” When Bucky just stared, Steve said, “You’ll make sure I eat when I can’t get out of bed, won’t you?”

            Bucky looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

           Steve smiled a little. “Okay. So you make sure I eat and I protect my walls. S’fine. Part of living together. We’ve always done it, right?”

            “Right,” Bucky said, looking half-lost in memory.

            Happened to Steve all the time, too. Two days together and the number of flashbacks Steve was having, things he didn’t even realize he still remembered- “Okay, Buck. Anything else you want to tell me?”

            Bucky came back again and met his eyes. “Well, I’ve got depression, too, all kinds of stuff, had to take a ton of medicine first month I was in therapy to keep up with my system, I hated it, but I- I don’t know. Got a dosage that worked. So I could handle it. And I got better. ‘Til I didn’t need to take that shit anymore. Didn’t want to take anything ever again, but she was so nice, explained everything to me, and I knew better than to listen but she was telling the truth, I knew she was, and the way she looked at me, god, Stevie, she just wanted to help-” Bucky cut off for a breath, but didn’t keep going.

            “You don’t need to tell it all, now, Buck. ‘Specially not if you told me what you think is important. We were with each other during the war, I think… I think if all we’ve got is a few bad days between us, I think we can handle it.” And, God help him, he did think that. Steve did think they could handle it. Together, at least. He’d been able to handle the depression with the Avengers at his back. What couldn’t he do if he had Bucky with him?

            “Yeah, okay.” Bucky nodded, suddenly exhausted. Or maybe he’d been tired this whole time, and Steve’d been struck too dumb by the sight of him to notice. “Later.” Bucky laid his head on the table and sighed. “Need to find my own, though. Headshrinks. And I guess a drug person, if it gets real bad again, but I think I should talk to Tony’s friend, because 400mg of mind-numbing stuff may be what it takes to calm me down if I start to panic, but God, I hate it.”

            “Course, Buck. Whatever you need. Anything.”

            “I think I need a nap now.”

            “Okay. You want to lay on the couch?” Steve knew from many Wednesday conversations that staying out of bed during the day would keep the art working to calm him down at night. And the couch felt less useless of a place than the bed. If Bucky needed that. If he wanted it. It’d helped Steve, anyway.

            “Alright. You gotta come with me, though.”

            Steve grabbed his hand and led him over. Steve sat out, legs outstretched, on the shorter side of the sectional, and Bucky dumped a pillow in his lap and collapsed there, toes just hitting the arm of the long side. He was asleep in five minutes. Steve knew the feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dropping four chapters tonight because I hate cliffhangers and I'm outa town next weekend so no laptop. Please be patient though I have to reread 5 and 6 to edit them before posting. They are coming tonight.

            Everything else they needed to tell each other came as it came. Or as their brains chose to drag it up. Steve wasn’t sure which and didn’t really care either way.

            Buck started seeing someone once a week, too, on Tuesdays usually. Steve didn’t know if that had something to do with the way Buck’s appointments made Steve anxious all day. Which Bucky noticed. That was probably why he picked Tuesday.

            Buck saw someone Sam had recommended. Steve ended up staying on with the same person because the thought of explaining everything to someone else at that point- and getting them to sign all the SHIELD paperwork required to treat one of America’s heroes- felt like more trouble than it was worth. He’d done enough of that the first time- technically this was his fourth therapist. And he trusted her. He did. Or he trusted Nat, who’d promised a clean background check.

            Also Steve found his motivation to get better was much stronger when he had a _life_ to get better for, beyond saving the world.

            Because that’s what it was, now. A life. Steve had a real life again. He’d never pin that on Bucky, and it wasn’t that Steve hadn’t been making a life before, but it was easier. So much easier to make it through the days when he had more than an empty house to wake up to each morning. When he met up with his friends for dinner more often than he did to strategize city escape routes in the event of another invasion.

            It was selfish. Thinking of it as a real life only after he got Bucky back. For all the times people called him the opposite Steve knew he’d always been selfish with Bucky. But he couldn’t help it. Not if it wasn’t hurting anyone. Not if he wasn’t putting innocent people in harm’s way to make sure Buck made it home. Which Steve would hopefully never have to do ever again. So. He guessed he could be a little selfish.

            Nat was so proud he used the word she took him shopping.

            “I hate shopping,” Steve reminded her.

            “Yeah,” Nat said, “but you didn’t have much to shop for before, you know? Now you’ve got dates, what, three times a day? So-”

            “Natasha,” Steve whined. He didn’t like whining, but Nat deserved it for that. “They’re not dates. We just live together.”

            “And sleep in the same bed.”

            “How did you even-” Steve sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Look. Even if that was your business, which it’s not, that still wouldn’t necessarily mean-”

            “Come on, Rogers. I see the way you look at him. I’m a trained spy, remember? Good observational skills. Although I’m pretty sure anyone can see it. Hell, Clint noticed, and he’s the most oblivious person I’ve ever-”

            “Nat!”

  
            “Okay, fine.” Nat held her hands up in surrender. “But you can’t tell me you don’t want to look good. For, you know. Yourself. Your recovery. Match the house. Whatever.”

            Steve sighed. It was obvious Nat didn’t believe a word of what she was saying, but she did have a point. Steve picked clothes for function and let Tony do the fancy stuff, usually without even seeing it beforehand. Not like there was much creativity in men’s fashion nowadays, at least when it came to things Steve could wear to official events. Printed tuxes had yet to be deemed appropriate by the PR staff. Tony was going to burst into Pepper’s office crying any day now, Steve guessed, and then maybe he’d have to consider something other than plain black.

            But when you weren’t following the rules- when you were in your own house- you could wear pretty much anything. As evidenced by Steve’s Hulk underwear. So maybe, even if they weren’t dates and he was seriously just sitting around half the day talking to Bucky- “Where are we going first?”

            Nat dragged him a few paces east and grinned brightly. “This way. I know all the good places,” she promised.

            “I’ll bet you do,” Steve said. He felt half-defeated and half-nervous. Which, okay, not too bad, considering. “But I’m not wearing skinny jeans.”

            “Steve! You’d look great in skinny jeans-”

*

            Steve hadn’t gone shopping in a while, let alone properly, so he got home that night carrying more bags than he’d planned. And it wasn’t the depression- Steve was actually tired. Because Nat shopped that hard.

            “Hello. I was gonna send out a search- holy shit, Steve, what did you do?” Bucky had frozen in the kitchen doorway, staring at Steve with wide eyes.

            “I didn’t do anything. It was all Nat. And I’m pretty sure she used one of Tony’s work accounts.”

            Bucky smiled. “A SHIELD one or an Avengers one?”

            “Does it matter?” Steve managed to get the bags down without causing an avalanche and turned to lock the door. “I am not going out. No more. Not tonight. Or maybe for the next week. Or forever.” He turned back to Bucky. “How do you even know about Avengers accounts and SHIELD accounts?  
            Bucky shrugged. “Must’ve come up when I was talking to your buddies. Or you told me. I don’t know. Figure it doesn’t really matter with that stuff. If I know it I know it.”

            “Wait a minute. Did Fury make you sign an NDA?”

            Bucky snorted. “I’m still legally dead. Don’t need to sign anything until they fix that part.”

            Steve kicked a few bags aside and headed for the kitchen, not ready to deal with the mess just yet. “Even after Washington? You’re still legally dead?”

            He could hear the shrug in Buck’s response. “Wasn’t like I was in the country. And they mentioned something about setting up a fake identity for me, but I didn’t think there was a point. Not when it’ll all eventually get out anyw-”

            “Hey.” Steve spun to face Bucky, holding eye-contact. “We’re not releasing anything you don’t want to. And we sure as shit aren’t doing anything that could hurt you. You got that?”

            Bucky smiled slightly. “Stevie. You know how things work now. And it’s my decision. One of the only things that stuck across four types of therapy was that I’d probably have to own up to what I did if I ever wanted to feel-” he cut off at Steve’s expression.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Bucky stepped closer and reached for Steve’s hand. “You don’t have to be. Not like we didn’t do it all the time, before, right? Bucky and Steve, Steve and Bucky. Never apart. Even when it was a little illegal.”

            “Did you mean when I disobeyed direct orders to find you or when you did it to find me? Or were you just talking about Brooklyn?”

            Bucky shook his head. “You disobeyed direct orders way worse than I did. Technically I was on your team and it was within my rights, logically, to go looking for you. The first time you did it-”

            “Doesn’t matter,” Steve said.

            “All that matters in the whole wide world, Stevie.” The teasing fell from Bucky’s expression; he just meant it.

            Steve ached to look at him. Knowing that after everything Bucky still felt- “Maybe. But you’re here now. That’s what I meant. That’s the important part.”

            Bucky closed the distance and pulled him into a hug. Steve was grateful, because another second of seeing that look on his face and Steve’d probably be crying. “I love you, Stevie.”

            “Love you too, Buck.”

            That was it.

            Maybe hanging off Bucky the next twenty-four hours was a little much, but Buck didn’t seem too bothered by it.

            “You know I was worried about how long it’d take us to say ‘I love you’ again,” Steve said. They were laying on the floor, or Steve was, Buck draped on top of him like a human blanket.

            “ _You_ were worried? Steve, until I got here I was convinced it was gonna fall outa my mouth the second I saw you and you’d either kiss me silly or run the other direction.”

            “Kinda like to kiss you silly. But maybe not yet.”

            “This is nice,” Bucky agreed. “Also I think once we start kissing again we’ll probably never stop and it’d be a little rude, going out in public like that.”

            Steve hummed. “Better start stocking up on lube.”

            “Your mind’s in the gutter, Rogers. I’m not about to give you the time of day just because you kissed me.”

            “I was talking about later. Once the thought of sex doesn’t give both of us anxiety attacks.”

            “Think mine are technically panic attacks, but I see what you mean. Want to get there eventually.”

            “This is really nice, though,” Steve said.

            “Yeah,” Bucky said.

            So they spent about half the day on the floor, talking.

*

            “Is this a date?”

            They’d made it all the way to the doors of the restaurant before Bucky asked. Which, of course, just made Steve blush harder. “I don’t know, Buck. I just wanted to eat somewhere I didn’t feel better just taking the food home. Or pizza bagels. We’ve been eating too many pizza bagels.”

            “Says the guy who picked an Italian place,” Bucky said with an eye-roll, but went in through the door Steve was holding open anyway.

            “Damn. Guess this is a date.”

            Buck flashed him a grin before they made it to the hostess stand.

            They were cheerily led to a booth- Steve didn’t know if that was for his benefit or Bucky’s but it’d been a damn good answer on Buck’s part when the hostess had asked- and left to look over the overpriced drink menus.

            “I’m getting water,” Steve announced.

            “You’re no fun. I’m getting blackberry lemonade. Might as well get some calories even if we can’t get buzzed, right?”

            Steve snorted and opened the more interesting part of the menu. “Whatever you say, pal.”

            “Hey, I’m just saying, now that we’re in the twenty-first- Stevie?”

            Steve realized Bucky was tracking Steve’s gaze around the restaurant and that wasn’t the reason Steve was doing that, so he quickly said, “No, everything’s fine, I just- think maybe we should keep our voices down? Just in case?”

            “Oh.” The steeliness left Bucky’s eyes and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be-”

            “What would you gentlemen like to drink?”

            Thank God for the booth, or Steve would’ve missed her and jumped. He was way too out of practice at this whole surveillance thing.

            Well. He was supposed to be out of practice. He was a civilian.

            Once the waitress had left them in peace again, Steve dropped his voice to a whisper. “Maybe we should be quiet? So we can talk about whatever we want and not be overheard?”

            “I wouldn’t say ‘whatever we want,’ but- sure. Makes it more like a date anyway.”

            “Can’t be more or less like a date. It just is one.”

            Bucky laughed. “Were you this bad before?” Then, in a whisper, “I can talk at normal volume if I’m not using specifics, right? Because I’m pretty sure this draws more attention than normal talking, even if we are on a date, and-”

            “Hey, Buck?” Steve was leaning forward. And resisting the urge to slap his hand over Bucky’s mouth.

            “Yeah?”

            “Maybe just don’t drop names or mention the thirties, okay?”

            “Okay,” Bucky said, and promptly shoved his foot between both of Steve’s. “This is good, though, right?”

            Steve stretched out to find his other foot under the table and nudge it. “Yes. God. It’s so much easier to be sneaky when I’m not distracted.”

            “You’re distracted by _not_ touching me?”

            Steve buried his face in the menu. Bucky would definitely know he was blushing, but, well. Had to pick something to eat anyway. And if Steve was lucky Buck would change the subject.

            Steve wasn’t lucky. “Stevie,” Buck hissed. “Steve. Stevie. Steeevieeeeeeeeee.”

            “If you don’t stop it someone’s actually going to recognize m-”

            “Why?”

            “What?” Steve dropped the menu in confusion.

            “Why does not touching me distract you?”

            “Oh.” Steve remembered a hundred nights in Brooklyn, or during the war, and he didn’t even blush this time. It was too familiar. Too solid a truth to be remotely flustered about. “When I’m touching you I know you’re here and I know you’re safe.”

            Bucky blinked. “Oh.”

            Then they both stared at their menus for a little while, and Steve tried not to be smug when they finally set them down and Buck’s own blush was still fading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for talkin' about Bucky's arm and Steve having a panic attack, though mostly described in physical and NOT mental terms. Further warnings will be posted in advance of chapter 5.

            They settled into a pattern.

            Steve hadn’t expected it, not- not so fast, not so _easily_ \- but they did. They woke up, made breakfast, and then Steve sometimes went over to the tower because apparently some meetings were so important even he had to attend them and also Steve was improving and improving sabbatical members of the Avengers really should come to important meetings.

            His not-really-asshole coworkers made sure Steve was done by lunch, though, so he got to eat every meal with Bucky. Steve had no clue what Buck did while he was at meetings, but sometimes there was evidence- like new food in the fridge or some played shows on the DVR or caution tape over the basement door.

            “What’s that about?” Steve’s head was already in the fridge, and he was smirking; he didn’t feel particularly worried about what Buck was doing with the basement, so long as it was more legal than whatever Tony wanted to do with it.

            “Nothing. You said I could have a couple rooms, right?”

            Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He’d mentioned in passing that he had more space than he knew what to do with and that Buck could do whatever he wanted with it for all Steve cared, but they hadn’t made a real discussion of it. “Well, sure. I mean, I’d like to discuss it first, but I guess if you’re set on it-”

            “Steve,” Bucky said, and flung himself from the sofa to hanging off Steve’s shoulder in about half a second.

            “Buck?” Now Steve was confused.

            “I’m not gonna do anything to your house that you don’t want me to do.” Bucky stared up at him with those wide eyes, the pleading ones that said ‘please just be honest with me’ that Bucky only got out when he was being really serious, and Steve melted when he saw them.

            Steve’s voice was barely audible. “You can do whatever you want down there, Buck. You can have some space of your own. You haven’t asked for a room upstairs, even though you can have one, and-” he cut off. And what? Steve had spent every day that month, every amazing blissful unexpected day, expecting to wake up one morning without Bucky next to him. And he hadn’t. Not once. “If you want a room, you can have a room-”

            But Bucky was frowning, eyebrows pulled together like he was unhappy, and Steve didn’t want him to be unhappy, Bucky was hardly ever like that since he moved in and the whole point was that if he needed to feel things to feel them but Steve hated seeing him unhappy- “I’m not gonna take your house, Steve. It’s still yours.”

            Steve sighed. Shoulda known they’d have to have this talk eventually. “Thing is, Buck… it doesn’t have to be my house.”

            Bucky kept frowning. “What are you talking about? This place is yours. Built it from the ground up, Stevie, you-”

            “Yeah,” Steve said, leaning a little closer than he usually did when they were face-to-face, “but I built it for you, too. For us. If you wanted… if you want to live here with me.”

            “Oh.” Bucky looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. “Oh. Really?” He looked up at Steve, all sincere now, all traces of pleading gone. He was just hopeful.

            “Of course,” Steve said. “Of course this is your house, too.”

            Buck held his eyes for a second, like he had to be sure even though there was no one more qualified in the world to read Steve’s face and recognize the truth there. Then Bucky’s face softened in a little smile, and he said, “Okay,” and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “But it’s gonna take more than a basement to make this my house.”

            Steve hummed his agreement and held him there.

            “For one,” Bucky said, and Steve could feel it, his warm breath on Steve’s shoulder, and they were hardly more than six inches from each other when they were in the same room and not touching, but God, he’d missed that, even after a month of proximity he’d missed it so much, “I’m going to need a little stuff. Not much, just a few Captain America posters, maybe some Hawkeye pants…”

            “Is that what you’ve been doing while I’ve been at meetings? Shopping for Avengers pajamas?”

            “No,” Bucky laughed. “We hadn’t talked about me living here and I wasn’t about to stop stealing your clothes just in case.”

            Steve felt his stomach drop and pulled back a few inches. “I’d never kick you out. You know that.”

            Bucky shrugged. “I know. But I might kick myself out. You never know. Least this way I had an excuse to come back.”

            And then Steve pulled him close again, reaching up to touch his hair. “No, Buck. Never. I’d never ask you to leave. I’d never want you to leave, unless you… unless you wanted to.”

            “I don’t think I will,” Bucky said. Quiet and serious.

            Steve didn’t need to look at him. He heard it. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

            “Can’t be a home unless you’re there, anyway,” Buck added, like an afterthought.

            Choked Steve up pretty good, but he wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. “Who’s the sap now, huh?”

            “Oh, shut up,” Bucky said, turning so his voice was muffled by Steve’s shirt. “You’re a punk.”

            “I know I am.” Steve was a little breathless. “I know, honey.”

            Bucky made a little whining noise, pressed a kiss to Steve’s shoulder, and moved back. “You absolute sap. I’m destroying your basement.”

            “Our basement,” Steve corrected, beaming.

            “But there’s some other stuff I need to do, first. Like-” and then he dragged Steve at super soldier speed to the front room, pulling him by the hand so fast Steve practically slid there- “Like this.”

            Steve looked around. “Like what?” The room didn’t have much furniture, but-

            “I want books, Stevie.”

            “Okay. Do you want to go down to the bookstore and-”

            “No,” Bucky cut him off with a whine. “I want real books, too. Old ones. Wanna find a resale shop and get some of our favorites. _Then_ we can get new ones.”

            “Okay,” Steve said. “Want to go find a used bookstore and-”

            “Yes!” Bucky said, and dropped Steve’s hand. He was in the entryway pulling on his shoes.

            “Good thing I already know where one is,” Steve said.

            “You have to feed me first,” Bucky said. “Since you opened the fridge. Kinda set a precedent there.”

            Steve didn’t even feel like rolling his eyes. Too happy. “Yeah, okay. Long as you promise not to make me find second copies of anything.”

            “That was one time, Steve, and it was because the writing in the margins was so bad you couldn’t-”

            “I had no problem with it, bad eyesight or not. It was you who had to write his own notes in the margins.”

            Bucky huffed. “Whatever you say, pal. Get your shoes on.”

*

            They were trying to come up with a system for the bookshelves when Tony showed up at their door.

            Steve answered it. “Uh, hi, Tony. We didn’t really expect-”

            “Yes, I know, unannounced,” Tony said, pushing past Steve into the house and closing the door. “It was important. Where’s your husband?”

            “M’right here,” Bucky said, appearing in the sitting room (or library, Steve guessed, now) doorway. “What?”

            “We’ve got a minor- well, I don’t want to alarm you, but it isn’t minor- problem. Remember that scan I did on your arm before I let you in the building?”

            “Yeah,” Bucky said, already looking ready to bolt.

            “Turns out it’s got a tracker in it we didn’t catch and therefore couldn’t shut down-”

            Bucky went white. “Another explosive one.”

            “Another explosive one,” Tony confirmed.

            Steve blacked out for a second.

            Then he was on the floor for some reason, and Bucky was rubbing his back, saying, “Breathe, Stevie, you gotta breathe, c’mon, in and out, inhale, c’mon, breathe with me, inhale,” and Steve listened.

            “Okay,” Bucky said, “Keep that up. Everything’s gonna be fine. C’mon, with me, inhale… exhale. There you go. Think you can do that for a little bit?”

            Steve managed to nod.

            “Okay,” Bucky said, and then his hand was still on Steve’s back but he was talking to Tony.

            Steve couldn’t hear them. Mostly he was focusing on Bucky’s hand and inhale, exhale. He’d done this before. A thousand asthma attacks and half as many nightmares. Inhale. Exhale.

            When Steve could breathe well enough to turn his ears back on, he caught the end of the conversation. “…only reason they haven’t done it is because they want to take you in, which, okay, bad, but that makes me more hesitant to move you. How’s the basement look?”

            Even in his current state Steve caught the flutter of nerves in Buck’s voice. “Why?” So the basement made him nervous, but an explosive tracking device in his arm he was fine with?

            “Don’t want to move you, need a place to set up. Can’t exactly take the thing out with no equipment.”

            “What if you just take the arm off?”

            “What?” Tony asked. Steve wasn’t sure he’d heard right, either.

            “What if you just take the whole thing off?” Bucky repeated. “I know you said you were pretty sure you got them all last time, but there was still this one, and if there’s still this one-”

            “Buck.” Steve was very angry. Not because Bucky hadn’t told him about any of this but because Bucky was hesitating about the stupid basement and Steve had seen how the arm was _grafted to his chest_ , they couldn’t just _take it off_ \- “We are not doing anything to hurt you.”

            Tony sighed. “Woah. Oh boy. You know that ‘husband’ crack was a joke, right?”

            Bucky ignored him, making eye contact with Steve again. Steve noticed he’d dropped his hand. “This is the safest way, Steve. I don’t care if it hurts. As long as it’s on, they can find me, or hurt you, and-”

            “Hang on,” Tony interrupted. “We don’t have to take the whole arm off. Now that I know what to look for, I can find any other trackers and-”

            “No,” Bucky said, glaring up at him. “It comes off.”

            Steve knew that tone. There was no arguing with Buck when he was like that; he wasn’t gonna stop ‘til the arm was gone. Hell, probably insist on launching it into space. He wanted it as far away from Steve- from him and Steve- as possible, and until that happened- Steve sighed. “No use arguing, Tony. It’s gotta come off.”

            Bucky’s hand returned to Steve’s back.

            Tony glanced between them. “Well, okay. But I’m gonna need the basement. May not think it in the year of our lord two thousand whatever, but the concrete helps fuck with the signal.”

            “Okay,” Bucky said, standing. “I’ll take you down there. We’ll get it set up, Steve can help you get what you need. Can you call Doctor Banner, Steve?”

            Steve stood. “Sure. Of course I can. After that do you need any help with-”

            “No,” Bucky said. “Not yet. I’ll come and get you when we’re ready.”

            “Okay,” Steve said. He pulled out his phone and dialed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter with mentions of ickies if you're worried about mentions of medical stuff please skip the first part. AFTER THE FIRST ASTERISK IT IS BACK TO FLUFF MY FRIENDS.

            It’s fine they’re gonna be fine. They were gonna be fine. Bucky would be fine.

            Steve might not be fine.

            Once Buck had cleared whatever it was he was hiding from Steve down there, Steve was instructed to get the first aid kit and some very heavy duty tools from the shed. The sight of said tools, including not one, but two saws, made him want to throw up. But it was Buck goddamnit and Steve’s battlefield instincts were kicking in, and they were Bucky-is-in-danger level battlefield instincts from day fucking one, so Steve could handle this because he had to handle this.

            “Okay. Think you could do a chair?” Tony was asking Bucky, and looking at him, stopping whatever prep he was doing on a makeshift workbench to make sure Bucky knew how seriously Tony was taking his comfort.

            Steve was gonna vomit.

            “I don’t know. Do you think you could do a table? I know it’d be easier for you, and it probably- I don’t think it’d be- I was usually sedated, so-” Bucky looked terrible. To anyone else he looked a little weary. To Steve he looked like he was barely holding it together.

            Which meant Steve fucking had to what was so hard to understand about that? Focus.

            “Your call. Oh, shit, Steve, how fond are you of that sofa?”

            “Which sofa?”

            “Not the sectional, that thing’s a pain in the ass, but do you think you could drag one of the other ones down here?”

            Steve glanced between Tony and Bucky. Buck looked just as confused as Steve was. “Okay,” Steve said. “Which one do you want?”

            Before Bucky could move past ‘no chair, no table, _couch_ ,’ Tony said, “Bring the one that’s least like- well, this ain’t no fucking hospital, let’s put it that way.”

            Ten minutes later Steve had jammed the longer of the front room sofas down the stairs. May’ve had to rip off a couple doorframes to do it, but that was easy work. “Where do you want it set up?”

            Tony raised his eyebrows at Bucky. “I know this is terrible and you probably won’t let us sedate you at all, let alone early, which I get, but you’ve gotta stay with me, buddy. You want to see the stuff or not see the stuff?”

            “Not see the stuff,” Bucky said, sounding faint and- oh God-

            Steve slid him the trash can just in time.

            “Banner mentioned something about the pain meds, probably good you got that out of the way before- Rogers!”

            Steve snapped his head up. He was still holding Bucky’s hair and rubbing his back, but Stark had his attention. “What?”

            “Jarvis is calling the others to set up a perimeter. You two need to figure out how you want to handle this. I won’t do a damned thing with all his nerve sensors on, but other than that it’s up to him what kind of safety precautions we’re going to take, got it?”

            Steve nodded.

            Bucky wiped his mouth and said, “Get the suit.”

            “I’m not getting the fucking suit,” Tony said.

            Bucky stood, almost knocking over the trash can in the process. “Get the suit, Stark.”

            Tony didn’t look up from the tools. “I meant what I said, and I trust you and Steve. I have emergency measures in place in case Banner goes green. I am not putting on that fucking suit. I will not wear armor in a goddamn- operating room-”

            The doorbell stopped Bucky from retorting with Tony’s ‘this ain’t no fucking hospital’ crack.

“Shit,” Steve said, cutting his eyes from Tony to Buck. “You okay down here?”

            “I’ll just have Jarvis let him in,” Tony said. “Figure your shit out, Barnes. I’m not wearing the suit.”

            “Since when can Jarvis open my door?” Steve asked.

            “Not now, Rogers. I want him prepped and on that sofa in fifteen, you hear me? I don’t care what you have to do.” And then, before Bucky could protest again, “And I am not wearing the motherfucking suit.”

            Steve walked Bucky over to the other side of the room. “What do you want to do?”

            Bucky looked at him with wide eyes for a minute, then laughed, and pulled him into a hug. “Jesus, Stevie, calm down. It’s gonna be fine. We’ve got a brain surgeon and the best tech genius in the world. It’s gonna be fine.”

            Steve pulled it together and asked, “What do you want to do?”

            Hearing the seriousness in his tone, Bucky moved back. “I don’t know. You have super soldier crap in that first aid kit, right? All kinds of drugs?”

            Steve nodded.

            “You’ve gotta tell me what they do. And nothing too strong. I have to be awake, Steve, you hear me?”

            “I hear you.” Much though Steve hated it, he understood why Bucky needed to be conscious for this. Buck’d told him enough for Steve to get that.

            Steve ran through the painkillers by order of intensity. He had three of them- five if you counted the two that nearly knocked him on his ass- not to mention a couple real sedatives in case Bucky changed his mind about being conscious.

            Steve didn’t think he was going to change his mind.

            Bucky chose the most intense of the non-knockout painkillers just as Bruce was coming down the stairs.

            He did not change his mind.

*

            “M’fine.”

            “You need to drink more. Do you drink orange juice? We need to get your blood levels back up to-”

            “Jesus. Would somebody get him out of here before he hurts himself?” Bucky waved his right arm at the door with enthusiasm. The painkillers had not lasted as long as they had on Steve; Bucky wasn’t even a little groggy anymore.

            “I’ve got it,” Tony said, shouldering his way into the guestroom and wrapping an arm around Steve. “Come on, man. You need a shower.” When Steve opened his mouth to protest, Tony said, “Using a wet towel to get the blood off and changing your fucking shirt does not count as a shower,” and Steve couldn’t argue with that.

            Sam was sitting in the family room watching House Hunters International. He jumped up to take over steering Steve the second he and Tony got them into the room. “Hey, man. Want to go get cleaned up?”

            “I’m fine, you should be worried about Bucky, he’s-”

            “Going to be fine!” Bucky yelled, way too loudly, from the guest room three feet away.

            Sam leaned in and lowered his voice. “If you won’t do it for you, do it for us. You look like a walking flashback.”

            Took Steve an extra second to process the euphemism: war flashback, _nightmare_ \- and then he was apologizing. “Oh, god, Sam, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot, you all-”

            “Get in the fucking shower!” Bucky yelled.

            Steve used the downstairs one and thanked his foresight to have stashed clothes in the downstairs linen closet.

            “You’re hopeless,” Bucky said when Steve re-entered the guest room ten minutes later. “I’m starting to wonder if Stark was right and you just forgot to tell me we really were married.”

            “Wasn’t legal in thirty-nine,” Steve said, sitting in the chair in the corner because if he had to get into bed on Bucky’s bad side a.k.a. Steve’s designated side of the bed this soon after the screaming, he was probably going to have a mental breakdown. “How are you feeling?”

            “I’m fine. Stark got me orange juice and everything.” Bucky waved at the nightstand.

            “You should get some sleep.”

            “It’s seven-thirty, Steve.”

            Wow. Yeah. Tony had come over right after lunch. And they’d been working for speed. Because Bucky’s trauma-addled brain had convinced him he didn’t care about nerve damage.

            Shit. Steve felt guilty for thinking that. No wonder Bucky wanted it over with, his arm could fucking explode with no warning-

            “…doing it again, Stevie.”

            “What?”

            “Thinking about all that horrible stuff down there. Want me to call your therapist?”

            It was more shock than deflection that had Steve asking, “You have her number?”

            “Of course I have her number, I took a card the first time we went down to the office. Don’t look at me like that, I’d tell you if I was snooping through your phone, and I don’t even have to, you gave me the password fifteen minutes after I moved in-”

            “Okay,” Steve said, “Alright, fair. I get it. Made Jarvis give me your therapist’s number a couple weeks ago-”

            “Stark!”

            Tony popped his head in the door. “What?”

            “Why does your AI have my therapist’s phone number?”

            “Because you didn’t bother protecting your phone and if I didn’t give it to Fury he would’ve tried to extradite you to Portugal, or something.”

            Bucky took a breath as if to protest, furrowed his brow, and said, “Fine,” instead.

            “Now, if you’ll excuse me, this couple might be making the worst decision of their lives, so I should-” Tony returned to the family room.

            “Wonder what’d happen if it got out that you all love HGTV so much?” Bucky asked idly.

            Steve shrugged. “Probably they would want to do a special on it. Survey of Avengers Tower or something. Not like I’d let them in here. I mean, clearly I like DIY Network better.”

            Bucky shook his head. “Never get used to you bein’ famous. And I know I just said it was early ass o’clock, but do you want to get some rest? You look tired.”

            Steve glanced between the empty bed space next to Bucky and Bucky himself, trying not to panic. “Would you want me to-?”

            “Oh, shit,” Bucky said, “Sorry, I’m on your side,” and edged his way to the other side of the bed.

            “ _Now_ you’re on my side,” Steve said, a little bewildered, ass still glued to the chair.

            Bucky huffed. “Don’t do that. We’ll switch for a while. I’m not gonna make you stay up all night ‘cause you’re worried you might hurt me. And who set the bed like this, last I checked all your friends were battle-seasoned veterans?”  
            “Clint sleeps on his stomach. Think he was fucking with it.” Buck was right. It was way too early. But Steve was tired.

            Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You getting in anytime soon or what?”

            Steve got up from the chair and circled around to the spot Bucky had been occupying, climbing in as gingerly as he could.

            “They’re two separate beds, Stevie, you’re not gonna hurt me. And I’m not gonna lie to you, but this is nothing. Really.” Bucky gestured to his shoulder where he usually would have shrugged.

            Steve rolled closer, slid onto his side so the others wouldn’t hear him but Buck still had some breathing room. “You lost your arm. Again.”

            Bucky rolled his eyes. “Would you shut it with the guilt thing? Seriously, I’m fine. I meant what I said. This is nothing. Liked this arm a lot less than the first one. And I don’t want to make you guilty about that, either- everything isn’t your fault, Stevie. And I’m okay. Promise.”

            Steve reached up to touch Bucky’s face. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?”

            Bucky smiled. “’Course I will. But you gotta do the same.”

            “Yeah,” said Steve, closing his eyes, “of course.”

            As he drifted off, Steve heard Bucky turn on the TV and start talking loudly across him about House Hunters. Take a lot more noise than that to stop a tired Steve. Even if he shouldn’t be the tired one. Right when he started to sink, he heard Bucky’s laugh, and it pulled Steve up enough to stay awake for one more second. “Love you, Buck.”

            “Always and forever, my Stevie.”

*

            “I did not say that.”

            “Yes, you did.”

            “You just slept twenty hours, what do you know? You could’ve dreamed that. You could be imagining it.”

            Steve sighed. He’d woken up midafternoon to find Bucky propped against the headboard next to him, throwing popcorn at the TV, while Nat heckled from the chair she’d relocated to the side of the bed. Nat had come up with some excuse to leave them alone for a minute, so the first thing Steve did was accuse his sap of a best friend of saying something sickeningly (sweetly- Bucky hardly ever did that before) romantic right as Steve was falling asleep. But it was clear Steve wasn’t getting anywhere with that, so. “How are you feeling?”

            “I’m fine, Steve. Old arm’s at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and Stark’s already making me a new one. And Nat called my vitals ‘exemplary.’”

            “What do you know about medicine?” Steve asked as Nat walked back into the room.

            She shrugged. “Need to know a little to be a halfway decent spy. And Bruce showed me some stuff, last time he was in town.” Then she shot a look at Bucky, who returned the look with one of his own.

            And Steve couldn’t always read Nat, but he sure as shit could read Bucky. “Natasha! What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”  
            Nat held up her hands. “Nothing to tell, man. Can’t Bucky and I gossip without there being something serious behind it?”

            Steve crossed his arms. “No.” He blinked away the last of the grogginess and became more aware of his body. “I am really thirsty. And hungry. And I really have to pee.”

            “Don’t leave the door open,” Bucky advised as Steve bolted for the bathroom.

            “Oh, is the Winter Soldier shy?” Steve heard Nat ask through the closed bathroom door.

            “Nah. Just a running joke. I’m kinda surprised he closed the door.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING both Steve and Bucky freak out a little, but it's mostly just hyperventilating and swearing. No full-blown panic attacks here.
> 
> BUCKY'S BIRTHDAY IS AT THE END OF THE SUMMER BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT FUCK CANON
> 
> Last chapter for a couple weeks, sorry guys, going away next weekend. But please enjoy this MUCH NICER cliffhanger.

            Bucky was mostly recovered in a day and a half, which turned out to be a week faster than it took Steve to be mostly recovered, and Steve hadn’t even set foot in the basement since the day of. Buck hadn’t let him.

            “What am I gonna do today?” Bucky was asking the ceiling. He’d asked his cereal a few minutes earlier to no avail.

            Steve shook his head. “Far as I know you’ve still got that whole basement left to finish.”

            Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet his. “What are we gonna do with it?”

            Steve snorted. “Thought you locking me out meant you had a top-secret plan. And I told you, do whatever you want. I’ve got more rooms than I know what to do with upstairs. Just because Tony needed an emergency lab doesn’t mean you have to abandon the whole project.”

            Bucky rolled his eyes. “Steve. You built the house.

            “Doesn’t mean I accounted for every inch of it.”

            Bucky sighed and got serious. “You’re really gonna let me destroy your basement?” He’d been bringing it up a lot since the arm thing. Bucky had put the caution tape back up the second Tony gave him the all-clear, but hadn’t spent any time down there since. Steve didn’t mind the caution tape. Although with Bucky not spending hours in the basement, the rest of the house was already looking a good 30% his, 60% if you were talking about the front room. Steve was pretty sure it was going to become Bucky’s office at some point, even though Buck’d never use the word.

            Yet for some reason Bucky was still acting like Steve was gonna back out on the basement offer. “This place is yours, too, Buck. The basement’s yours. I got to design the rest of the place, and you haven’t changed much up here.” A new thought occurred to Steve. “You’re alright down there?” Was that why Bucky wasn’t working on it? Was that why he didn’t want Steve down there?

            Before Steve could speculate further, Bucky said, “What? Oh, I’m fine.” He then jammed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and spoke around it. “I don’t go down there ‘cause I just got my balance back. And it’s hard to do all the same things I was planning on doing without a fancy robot arm.”

            Steve relaxed. He’d seen Tony set that sofa on fire with a good old-fashioned match, it had been an entire week with only one arm-related nightmare for each of them, and Steve could remember the day they poured the basement concrete. Hydra was not going to fuck up Steve and Bucky’s house. “I thought Tony said it would only take him a couple days to make the new one?”

            Bucky snorted. “That was never an accurate estimate. And you know he’s a perfectionist. Bruce also won’t let him do a damned thing until I’m done healing, and apparently grafting metal to someone really messes with the healing factor, so…” Bucky shrugged. “Kind of want to know what it’s like this way, too. Then I could take it off if it ever got too heavy. I couldn’t do that before.”

            Steve winced. “Right.”

            “Hey,” Bucky dropped his spoon to reach for Steve’s hand. “We’re doing okay, Stevie. I’m doing fine. Are you doing okay?”

            Steve met his eyes for the necessary second and then looked at their hands and squeezed. “Yes.”

            “Good.” Bucky pulled Steve’s hand up, kissed it quick, and went back to his cereal. “I was startin’ to wonder.”

            “Wonder what?”

            “Whether the honeymoon phase was over.”

            Steve choked on his Fruit Loops. “Bucky! We only switched back to our regular sides of the bed _yesterday_ -”

            “I know. Shame we didn’t do it sooner, it was a pain in the ass rolling over every time I needed to reach the bedside table.”

            Steve bit his lip. “You’re really okay?”

            Buck met his gaze dead on. “Never been better. Ask me again and I’m stealing your cereal.”

            “Okay.” Steve smiled. “Now, back to this honeymoon thing- I was thinking we should visit the tower. Because the pool would give me a really good excuse to see you with your shirt off-”

            “Yes!” Bucky sprung up from the table and ran for the stairs. “I can go swimming again! This is the best!” His voice drifted, faint but clear enough, through the floor. “You got bubble bath? When we’re done at the tower I’m taking a bath. Where are your trunks? I thought you kept them in the short- ahh, fuck, Stevie, why do you only have one pair?”

            “We’ll buy another one. Finish your breakfast.”

            “Everybody has two swimsuits in the twenty first century, Steve-” Bucky kept ranting, and Steve kept smiling, and by the time Bucky finally came back down to drink the rest of his cereal Steve had texted Tony to tell him they were coming.

*

            “C’mere, Stevie, wanna show you something.”

            “One second.” Steve was trying to fix the angle of Buck’s arm in the drawing and didn’t want to leave it ‘til he got it right. He was starting art class next week and wanted to be at least a little competent beforehand. Bucky was sprawled on the new front room sofa, reading while Steve drew. “Can I ask you something?”

            Bucky hummed.

            “Why do you call me that so much? When you never used to before?”

            Bucky smiled, wide and happy and beautiful. “Because I remember how much you loved it, and I didn’t do it enough before. And I’m done wasting time.”

            “Me, too,” Steve said, and dropped his pencil and went to lean over the back of the sofa. “What did you want to show me?”

            “Nothing,” Buck said, and kissed him.

            “Done wasting time, huh?” Steve asked against his lips.

            Bucky laughed. “I’m not asking to get in your pants. I just want a little more Steve.”

            They kissed until Steve felt some kind of panic attack coming on, at which point Bucky noticed and stopped kissing Steve even though Steve didn’t want to stop kissing Bucky his lungs had seen worse they could handle it, probably, he wasn’t gonna pass out, he didn’t think, and-

            “Stevie Stevie Stevie. Come on. Breathe.” But Steve was still breathing, damnit, Bucky hadn’t needed to stop and remind him, but he was talking again so Steve couldn’t keep kissing him- “You know, I thought I was gonna crack before you? All those years of buildup before the war were bad enough. It was seventy years this time, you know? Seventy years.”

            “You okay?” Steve could for sure breathe enough to talk but that wasn’t important because Bucky’s eyes were looking jittery.

            “Yeah. M’fine. Shit. Oh shit oh shit I think I set myself off- fucking- I’m sorry Steve, shit-” before Steve could react, Bucky’d buried his face in Steve’s neck. Then he jumped back. “Shit! Sorry! Is that okay? Damn it damn it damn it-”

            “Bucky. Breathe. Come on. Breathe with me. Inhale… Exhale.”

            By the time helping Bucky breathe had evened out Steve’s breath well and good, Buck was starting to calm down. “Jesus. Fucking- I want to laugh but I still feel half-drowned.”

            “I know, baby. S’okay.”

            Bucky made a choking sound and curled up a little. “Damnit, Steve. I was thinking about you running out of air and then that made me think about cold and then I was thinking about me running out of air and- slow is good. That was a good idea. We should keep doing that.”

            “Can I keep rubbing your back?”

            “Did I tell you to stop?” After a few minutes of Bucky almost purring like a cat as he snuggled closer and closer to Steve, he said, “Why are you never the little spoon anymore? We mostly wear the same size. You’re shorter than me if I squint.”

            “Sounds like your vision’s going.”

            “Oh, shut up. I mean it. I want a turn in the driver's seat, buddy. Or whatever that metaphor- that was right, right?”

            Steve hummed and kissed the top of his head.

            “I’m sleepy. Can we take a nap?”

            “You picked a good couch for it.” Bucky had gone with blue to replace the white one, and it was twice as comfortable as the one Steve’d had originally even though one of Steve’s main furniture concerns was how easy it was to sleep on anything soft.

            “If Nat ever wants a bed I call dibs on decorating.”

            “Fine. But no surprise birthday parties.”

            “How is that related?” Bucky grumbled, sounding a little more awake at the prospect of arguing with Steve.

            “It isn’t really. But if we’re negotiating, I say no surprise birthday parties. The day you showed up was enough surprise to last me a lifetime. And I know you have to approve the guest list on stuff, so I can’t surprise you. Not that I would. I may be a jerk, but I’m not mean.”

            “Did your friends try to do anything? On the fourth, I mean?”

            “I think Clint dumped tea in the fountain in the tower lobby. Other than that, no. They all know my birthday’s in February.”

            “As long as they know mine’s in a week. If you invited them.”

            Steve sat as bolt upright as he could without knocking Bucky onto the floor. “Shit. Your birthday’s in a week.”

            Bucky smiled. “Knew you’d forget something eventually.”

            Steve felt so bad he didn’t try to protest. “Crap. What do you want to do? Do you want a party? You want a party, right? Like, a small one?”

            “I want a pool party. But you have to invite Thor’s girlfriend’s whole team. And any of Tony’s friends. Tony has friends, right? I’m assuming he’s the only one who has friends. ‘Cept Sam. Make him invite his friends, too, if they won’t rat me out to the government.”

            Steve was dumbstruck. “You want a real party? Like… not a small one?”

            Bucky took Steve’s face in his hands and stared. “Steve. I would not have set foot in your giant house if I wasn’t mentally healthy enough to completely trash it on purpose through the means of a party- which is why we’re having a pool party at Stark’s, because no one can know where you live. And I don’t want to ruin your house until something needs renovating. And I know that’ll take a long time, of course, it looks like you’re digging your heels in here, and I can’t blame you, so hell, let’s throw down some roots, have a pool pa-” he cut off when Steve hugged him. “Okay, Steve. Easy. Panic and anxiety attacks, remember?”

            “Sorry.” Steve made to drop his arms.

            Bucky whined and slapped Steve’s back. “No. Just not too tight. We got all the time in the world to get there.”

            Steve hummed. They sat like that for a minute, Steve feeling fuzzy and warm even though he’d momentarily forgotten his best guy’s birthday was in a week. Then, “How am I gonna plan a party for you in a week?”

            “Have Jarvis do it?”

            “Good idea. Yes. I’ll text him.”

            “Not now, though.”

            “No,” Steve agreed, “In a minute.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo. Mentions of arm stuff but they're very vague. Pretty light chapter, contains Bucky's birthday party. Definitely posting the last two chapters next weekend, though I'm not sure when I'll start posting work #3 as that starts the Bucky POV stuff and I may need more time to work on that.

            Jarvis was a damn good party planner.

            Steve hadn’t seen Bucky this _Bucky_ since 1941. “Sam! Is your whole family here?” Bucky bounded over to Sam, who’d just stepped onto the patio. And then he hugged him.

            Steve returned Sam’s shocked look with a smile and a shrug.

            “Yeah, man,” Sam laughed, stepping back. “As many of them as would sign Fury’s NDA. Is that the new arm?”

            “Yep.” Bucky held it up to the light, twisting it a few times for Sam to get a good look. It was coated in something to make it look less conspicuous, but Tony had yet to put the finishing touches on; the skin was a little too smooth, the movements a little too jerky, for the thing to blend in just yet. “Tony gave it to me for my birthday. Doesn’t weigh too much more than an arm and it’s waterproof.”

            “You can beat him at swimming, though,” Steve offered. He pulled Sam in for a hug of his own. Then, by way of explanation, “I’ve had to save his ass twice already today because he still hasn’t gotten used to the thing.”

            Bucky glared out the corner of his eye at Steve for that one. Worth it. “I haven’t had three hours, let alone a good couple days, to get used to it. I’d like to see you try freestroking with this thing.”

            Steve held up his hands in surrender. “No thanks. It took him twenty minutes to get the first part attached.”

            Tony appeared to defend his tech. “That’s because it’s the beta. I couldn’t prep Sarge’s arm for a finished model and have it be a surprise. And I need to see how he interacts with it. Never gonna get a more accurate version otherwise.”

            “We know, you’re brilliant,” Sam said. “But have you met my mom?”

            “Of course I’ve met your mom, she insisted on having lunch with me when I called and asked her if I could ask you to join the Avengers- wonderful to see you again, by the way, how’d the garden turn out? Annuals living up to their full potential?”

            Before Sam’s mom could reply to Tony, Sam asked, “You asked my mom before you asked me?” and launched a loud three-way argument that Bucky politely opted out of.

Steve had no objections; he followed Bucky to the edge of the roof deck. “Times like these I wish your mom was around to kick your ass for me when you almost drown yourself-”

            “I was not drowning, Steve, my feet were on the ground. This pool doesn’t even go past eight feet, anyway, and that’s only at, like, the very end. What about you? You’re lucky your ma isn’t here to kick your ass for me, considering you almost missed my birthday party getting yourself mortally wounded-”

            “It was a false alarm! And that was a scratch,” Steve said, waving around his healed right arm in demonstration. The night before, he had been called in on a top secret very important very dangerous possibly perilous emergency Avengers meeting that turned out to be a false alarm- or maybe a prank courtesy of Thor’s brother, nobody was sure yet. Steve had scratched his arm, a little, busting into the building where the not-dangerous-at-all event had taken place. And was now completely fine. “I’m fine!”

            “You’re fine now.” Bucky left the rest unsaid and went to greet the just-arrived Clint.

            Steve didn’t need Bucky to say the rest. He’d been asking Buck what he wanted for his birthday all week. And all week, Bucky had come back with, “your retirement,” in as serious a tone as Steve’d ever heard him use. Steve may be fine now, but he wouldn’t necessarily be fine after he got back in the field and started going on regular Avengers missions.

            Steve’s official sabbatical had no end date, and his therapist had to sign off on him going back to work full-time for SHIELD, anyway, not to mention all the required tests before he was allowed to set foot anywhere dangerous. But all of that went away at the sign of a real emergency. The night before hadn’t turned out to be one. It’d looked bad enough for Steve to try and help, though, and being back doing something again had felt so good he almost wanted back in now.

            No. Steve was doing great. He was healing. Buck was healing. They were figuring things out. Making a life. Steve would be risking that every single day if he stepped into that suit full-time again. And the thought of the prerequisite- being at a desk all day looking over the logistics of field work- made Steve feel sick. How was he supposed to face real situations, like that, day after day, and not undo the progress he’d worked so hard to make these past few months?

            “Penny for your thoughts?” Nat came up behind him, leaning in the space Bucky’d left.

            “Thinking about work,” was all Steve said.

            Nat didn’t need any more. “Ah.”

            For a few minutes they just stood there, staring out at the city.

            “I stay because I know I can do more good in this job than I could anywhere else.”

            Steve hadn’t asked, never planned on asking, but he was happy to hear anything Nat wanted to share with him. So he stayed quiet.

            “I don’t know if it’s the same for you.” She put a hand on his elbow.

            Steve didn’t look up. Didn’t want to. He could hear the honesty in her voice; Nat’s eyes wouldn’t convey more or less. Looking at the familiar/not familiar image spread out below him made it easier to think. Easier than it would have been looking at Nat, who undoubtedly felt empathetic and would show it in her eyes to Steve.

            “I think maybe it’s not. But there’s no rush. We’re not getting any older.”

            It was an old joke between them, now, Nat and Steve and Bucky. All it’d taken was two months and a few bad jokes about nonagenarians. Nat didn’t age right. Neither did Steve. Or Bucky. Not to mention various forms of ice. None of them knew how old they were supposed to be; it was something you had to take with the serum, figure out how to live with. Steve’d had enough time to think about it, Erskine having warned him. He knew Buck and Nat felt the same. Strange, but they’d gotten used to it.

            If Nat wanted to spend her days working in the field for the right side, fixing the balance, Steve had no problem with it. Didn’t know if he wanted to do that work. Didn’t know if he could.

            As always, Nat said something that made him think she could read his mind. “You’ve given plenty to this country, Steve. To the world. And there are more superhumans every day. It’s not just your burden anymore.”

            Hell, she knew that better than anyone. Red Room experiment trained from birth to be a world-class assassin. As far as Steve was concerned, Nat had a right to bow out of the fight the second she wanted to, and every day after that would’ve been hard-earned.

            But Steve wasn’t Nat.

            “Okay. Come on.” Natasha tugged his elbow, and Steve forced a smile, reminding himself he had Bucky back to make it more real. “There you go. Enjoy the party. No need to decide your fate right this minute. And you can always change your mind, you know.”

            Steve made eye contact, finally. Smile gone as quick as he’d dragged it up. “Don’t think it’d be worth giving up all that. If I retired. Don’t think anything would be enough to get me back in. Short of the end of the world again.”

            “Maybe you’ve already decided, then.”  
            “Maybe.”

            Nat spun them to face the party. “Now, where’s your boyfriend? He promised to teach me how to dance before this thing was over.”

            “You know how to dance.”

            “Steeeeeve,” Nat said, staring like he was missing the obvious, getting him to smile again, “you can’t teach style,” and she picked Bucky out of the crowd and waved him over.

*

            The party had died down a little, but everyone was still there, sprawling on pool floats and deck chairs as the sun sank. Most everyone had been in and out of the pool since they got there; Bucky’s hair was still dripping wet from his last race with Sam.

            “Do you think Tony’d be mad if I took off the arm?” Bucky was currently sitting on Steve’s lap, soaking Steve’s clothes.

            Steve thought it was a fair enough trade for the armful of Bucky. “No. He’s not that much of an asshole.”

            “Good. ‘Cause I need his help to take it off.” Then, to the deck at large, “Tony!”

            “Whaddaya need, birthday bro? Cake time? Is it time for cake?”

            “Can I eat it with one arm?”

            Tony didn’t even blink. “Sure thing. Want me to do it now?”

            “Yeah. We gotta go inside?”

            “Yep.”

            Before Bucky could stand, Steve said, “I’ve got it,” and slid his arm under Bucky’s legs and lifted him.

            “We’re coming back with CAKE!” Bucky yelled, and they were cheered into the tower.

            “How ya doin’?” Steve asked under his breath.

            “M’fine. Tony’s giving me cake.” Though he sounded pretty happy about this, Bucky was also leaning on Steve’s shoulder.

Spending time with people took a hell of a lot of energy for Steve; he couldn’t imagine what it was taking for Buck, return of the ‘30s attitude or not. “You’re gonna sleep good tonight.”

            “Probably.”

            Steve didn’t know what to expect when they made it down to the lounge part of Tony’s lab. Definitely not Bucky insisting he be spooned on the couch so he could nap in peace while Tony took off the arm.

            “Thanks for this, Tony,” Steve said. He kept his voice low even though he knew Bucky could hear them.

            “No problem, Steven. And you’re not the one who needs to thank me. Not like I’m done with the thing, and I sure as shit aren’t letting you two use it without me until I am one hundred percent sure-”

            “Tony?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Just, thanks.” Steve didn’t want to hear whatever details Tony was assuming he needed to add. And he was grateful. Always be grateful to people who could do things for Buck that he couldn’t.

            The thank you alone was enough to get Tony going. “Alright Captain drama queen. Eh, that was weak. Captain Sap? Not unless I go with just ‘cap.’ But that still won’t sound good. Captain Emotional Honesty? I like that. Got a nice ring to it.”

            “I get to come up with his nicknames,” Bucky protested. He’d been breathing slow as anything, eyes shut and face relaxed. Though Steve knew better than to think he’d be able to sleep in a situation so close to nightmare memories.

            “Fine, Barnes. Make it a good one. And Cap?”

            Steve looked up from Bucky’s fake-sleep face to meet Tony’s eyes. “Yeah, Tony?”

            “You’re welcome.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter to make up for the short one. Steve makes some important decisions.

“That was hard.”

            Steve hummed his agreement and held Bucky.

            “That was really hard.” Bucky breathed for a second. “But it was fun.”

            “Yeah,” Steve said, smiling, “it was,” and he was so relieved to hear the laugh bubbling up from Bucky’s chest that Steve laughed a little, too. “I thought it was thirty-nine again.”

            “Me dragging you around making you talk to everybody?”

            “No. Yes. I just meant- you were the life of that party, Buck.”

            “Shoulda been. It was my birthday party.”

            Steve stroked his hair. “I’m glad they got to meet you.”

            “Can’t let me propose before that, huh?”

            Steve huffed a laugh and kissed the top of Bucky’s head. “Hey, don’t. We’re on a winning streak since that time last week, I don’t wanna break it.”

            “Does it make you nervous?”

            “No,” Steve said. “Only thing stopping us in the thirties was homophobia.”

            Bucky shook his head against Steve’s chest. “It doesn’t make me nervous, either. S’why I’m joking about it.”

            “That’s a terrible excuse and you know it.”

            “Yeah, but we’ve always _known_ ,” Bucky said. “Don’t see how it’s got to be any different just because we can’t make it past first base at the moment.”

            “That’s not what it’s about and you know it,” Steve said.

            Bucky leaned back to look at him. “I know. But we’ve always known, Stevie. I coulda proposed when you were twelve. Might have given us enough time to come up with some good excuses.”

            “Don’t need excuses now,” Steve said, hardly believing they were having the conversation. Just. Easy and serious at once, like everything else to do with them since Bucky’d got back and they’d started winding themselves together again.

            “No, we don’t,” Bucky said, glint catching in his eye, “but I’m still dead.” He laughed and laid on Steve again.

            “We’ll figure it out.” For as uncertain as Steve was about his own future, that much he knew for sure.

            “Told you we would. Not like I got anything better to do in my retirement.”

            Steve had to remind himself to breathe before he could ask, “You’re sure?”

            Bucky was already pulling back to check if Steve was okay. “Of course I’m sure, Steve. What’d you think I was gonna do, jump out there and start putting my neck on the line for Fury when I could have an attack at any second? I appreciate all the people who stayed on to fix what Hydra did, but I’m… as long as they’re done, I’m done.”

            They hadn’t had this conversation. Steve had known they’d need to have this conversation, sometime, but he never thought- it had always been a ‘when they get there’ kind of talk. Or not ‘when they get there,’ when Buck got there, because Steve’s decisions were no longer directly tied to the apparent morality of the organizations he was working with. That had stopped a long time ago.

            Maybe it shouldn’t have.

            “Me too.”

            Bucky jerked back, hand on Steve’s shoulder, and stared at him. “What?”

            “I’m done. Retired. International emergencies aside.”

            “Really?”

            Steve smiled. “Yeah. Happy birthday. Jerk.”

            Bucky’s hand moved to his face. “Steve. Don’t quit if you don’t want to.”

            Steve held eye contact. “I do want to. I quit.” He meant it.

            “You sure?”

            Steve’s smile widened. “Careful. I’m gonna think you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

            “I’m not. I just want you to be sure. And I know I’ve been a jerk about it, I just… Don’t let that decide for you, alright? Don’t let _me_ decide for you.” Bucky sounded genuinely worried about that.

            Steve didn’t want him to be worried, because he had no reason to. “I’m not. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I don’t want to do this anymore. And it’s not because I haven’t taken a long enough vacation. The thought of seeing all that again, when I know it could set me back- when I don’t have to-” Steve cut off, it didn’t matter, he didn’t need to explain-

            “Shh. Don’t do that. That’s right. You don’t have to. You don’t owe anybody anything. You gave your life for this country once, damnit.”

            “That’s right. I did.” They held each other again. Then, softer, Steve said, “So did you.”

            “Why d’you think I quit, Steve-o?”

            “Don’t know. Sit at home staying pretty while I get my face bashed in?”

            Bucky huffed a laugh. “Shut up. Punk. And you’re not getting your face bashed in anymore.”

He sounded so happy when he said it Steve felt warmed from the inside out. “I love you, too, baby.”

            Bucky made a noise in the back of his throat.

            “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            Steve could tell Bucky was lying even if he couldn’t see his face. Or feel his heart rate speed up a little through their pressed-together chests. “No. What is it?”

            Bucky exhaled. “You’re cheating. Being a human lie detector is cheating.”

            “You do it all the time to me.”

            “Fine,” Bucky said, tightening his arm around Steve. “I like it when you do that. The terms of endearment.”

            Steve wanted to shift back enough to catch him blushing, but Bucky was holding too tight.

            “It’s still the same. You’re still a hopeless sap, even after all these years. Makes me feel home again.”

            Steve’s turn to hold on. “You are home again. We’re home.”

            And he believed it.

*

            Following through was something Steve was very good at.

            “Have the papers on my desk by Friday morning and you’re officially retired from service.”

            Steve blinked. “It’s that easy? I don’t even need a notary?”

            “Nope,” Fury said. “You might want a lawyer to look over this stuff before you sign it, but if you trust me- if you trust Nat, because she read the paperwork after I finished it- you won’t look a gift contract in the mouth. Or contract release. I’m not too savvy with the legal terms. Point is, you sign that, you’re out. Unless we call because we need you. Which, of course, would be totally voluntary. It’s not even in there that you have to give us your location. Though I’m guessing you know we’ll have it anyway.”

            Steve sighed. “Yeah. The Patriot Act, right? That the one that lets you spy on American citizens for national security?”

            Fury shrugged. “I’m not sure what we’re using nowadays. Pretty sure you’d fall under the category of ‘dangerous superhuman entity,’ thus rendering us within our rights as your government to keep an eye on you. Something like that. But I don’t think you intend on falling into the category of ‘threat.’”

            Steve knew what Fury was implying; Steve wasn’t going to pose a threat to others. Bucky might. They were saving that paperwork for when Buck was ready, but Steve could hear the undercurrent in Fury’s words. You’ll probably never be dangerous. He might. We’re keeping an eye on you both anyway. “No, sir.”

            “Good. I’d like your consultation on that meeting Wednesday, unless your retirement is effective immediately, in which case I need a heads-up so I can find someone else to consult.”

            “I’d be happy to finish out the week, sir. If that sounds good to you.”

            Fury leaned forward in his seat at the deserted conference table, clutching his hands together in a gesture of finality. “Doesn’t matter what sounds good to me. You’re leaving, I respect that, and you are under absolutely no obligation to come into work right now anyway. Not to mention I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

            Steve hoped that boded well for Bucky. “Alright, sir. I’ll see you Wednesday, at least.”

            “That sounds just fine.”

            Steve took his papers, got up to leave, turned towards the door.

            “Rogers?”

            Steve turned back.

            “There’s no need to call me ‘sir.’ Seeing that you are no longer working under me in any way.”

            Steve shook his head. “Old habits, Nick.”

            Fury got the expression of his that passed for a casual smile, eyebrows raised, eyes glinting even if his mouth hadn’t twitched. “See you around, Rogers.”

            Steve waved as he left. No longer a SHIELD employee. No longer a soldier. Not officially,  not until the paperwork was signed. But Fury’d made it clear Steve didn’t need the paperwork, at least not now. He was going to sign it. Have it checked over by a lawyer first. Make sure the government couldn’t come knocking when they needed some extra brute strength. But Steve was pretty sure he was going to sign it. And then he’d never have to work for SHIELD ever again. Never be a soldier ever again.

            Well. Always be a soldier. No, a veteran. Steve was a veteran now.

            Unless they really needed him. Which they wouldn’t, not unless the world was about to end. And Steve would’ve helped, then, anyway. Regardless of how retired he was.

            Bucky was waiting where Steve’d left him, on the family room sofa, too tired to do much after the party the day before. “Hey, sweetheart. Those the papers?”

            “Yep.” Steve set them on the coffee table and lifted Bucky’s feet, taking a seat on the cushion under them. “All I have to do is sign them.”

            “Gotta have someone read ‘em first.”  
            “Mmhmm.”

            Bucky caught his eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

            “I haven’t even started art class yet.”

            Bucky shook his head, stayed serious. “Taking care of yourself is a skill.”

            “You’re better at it than I ever was.” Nothing but honesty.

            Bucky smiled sadly. “Maybe looks that way sometimes. Maybe not anymore.”

            “You just need some time. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

            Bucky wiggled his toes. “That’s what I’m hoping, Stevie.”

*

            Steve got back from his last SHIELD meeting to find Bucky throwing sheets over the furniture in the front room.

            “I’m painting,” Bucky explained.

            “Okay. Want some help?”

            “Nope. I wanted the color to be a surprise. Thought you’d be out longer.”

            “Long as it’s not stars and stripes.”

            Bucky snorted. “I’d need you to do that. I couldn’t paint a straight line if I tried.” He leaned down to open the paint can, using his foot for leverage. Still hadn’t got the arm back, though he’d been back in Stark’s lab for a while the day before.

            “You sure you don’t need some help?”

            “Nope.” On the pop of the ‘p,’ Bucky got the lid off, revealing-

            “Purple.”

            “That okay with you, champ?”

            Steve beamed. “Not a problem.” And, since Bucky had said he didn’t need help and Steve wasn’t going to pull one of Buck’s signature moves on him- goodness knew Bucky was never the one who needed help anyway- Steve left him to it.

            He had a little time before his appointment that afternoon, and Nat was too off-the-grid to call and reassure him, which meant Steve needed to find a lawyer. Because yes he trusted Nat. But no he did not trust Fury. Not without Nat’s okay, at least.

            Steve narrowed it down to people who worked with soldiers and made a few phone calls. He didn’t think the expertise would be necessary to understand the terms of his contract, if it did what it was supposed to do; Steve was thinking ahead to the day Bucky needed a lawyer.

            By the time he was an hour and a half out from the appointment, Steve had done as much business as he wanted to and started clicking around. Since Buck didn’t need help and Steve wasn’t gonna subject himself to the smell of paint if it meant Bucky was also going to be annoyed with him.

            Damn. Should have tried the extract trick, Steve thought. He put his cursor in the address bar and tried to think of something to do. Something that wouldn’t require thought or end with Steve almost breaking a computer (like that one time with the flash game).

            Steve got as far as typing ‘best dogs for’ when something on the law office page caught his eye. One of the partners specialized in adoption.

            It felt like the floor had fallen out from under him.

            Steve had only just retired. And until Bucky was officially alive again, getting married was a pipe dream. It didn’t actually mean anything, according to Clint’s gender studies class- marriage had always been more a of a practical thing. Even in this century when everybody said it was about love, that was the underlying constant. Tax benefits. Recognition from the state. Official spousal status. That sort of thing.

            Half of Steve’s generation, him included, didn’t know if they’d live long enough to get married and have kids. And, okay, marriage aside, they were eventually doing that anyway, no way Steve could be misreading Bucky’s tone _that_ badly when one of them mentioned it- they could have kids. Steve could have kids.

            Steve and Bucky could have kids. If they wanted to. If Steve’s depression and Bucky’s fear of himself didn’t terrify them too much. And things had been working out pretty well so far. So.

            So Steve could have kids. With Bucky. If they wanted to.

            He made it to the front room doorway and froze.

            Bucky was standing there, painting, humming some now-old song to himself as the walls changed from pale yellow-white to a shade of purple just darker than an Easter egg.

            Steve was staring for a good few minutes before Bucky said, “You coming in, or you just here for the view?”

            “I have my appointment in a few minutes.”

            Bucky turned to meet his eyes. “You want me to come?”

            “No.” Steve didn’t want to scare the shit outta Bucky, either, so he said, “I just love you, is all.”

            Steve was determined not to say a damned word to anyone (besides a trained medical professional sworn to confidentiality, who he’d be vague with, anyway) until Bucky was well enough to mentally process it.

            But it felt really fucking good to have a more tangible possible future than ‘keep being alive.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL POST THE FINAL CHAPTERS NEXT WEEKEND hope you enjoyed these, though :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING Steve wakes up from a nightmare at the end and thinks through the calming process, so if you're at all worried about reading that skip the part after the third asterisk and maybe read like the last sentence of the chapter if you want to get the gist of why that scene was important

            “I’m starting art class on Monday.”

            “Don’t waste any time, do ya?” Bucky had just gotten the last of the books rearranged in the front room, which, thanks to a few hours of open windows and a mercifully dry twenty-four hours, didn’t even smell like paint anymore.

            The paint had dried a little darker; with the blue sofa and all the natural light, the room looked like the cold part of the sunset sky. “Neither do you. And I waited a while, actually. Wanted to finish this place first. Speaking of which, is your office almost done?” Steve gestured around to the room he’d just stepped into to talk to Buck.

            “It’s not an office, Steve. It’s a reading room. A library.”

            Steve flopped onto the sofa next to Buck. “Did you ever think back in the trenches we’d have a house with a library?”

            Bucky snorted. “I didn’t think we’d have a house. A shitty apartment, maybe, with a nice old landlady who didn’t ask questions. And didn’t raise the rent.”

            “Two twin beds?”

            “Nah.” Bucky wriggled closer to Steve. They were already pretty close. “I’d buy you a nice one. Good for your back. I never did get past little you, you know? When I thought- those times I thought we could maybe do it. Make a go of it. Even after the war had started. I was still afraid you’d fall in the gap between our beds. Better to have one. If we were together we’d have one. And get a spare bed to cram in the living room and pretend I sleep on it when we have people over.”

            Steve tipped to the side, leaning full into Bucky now. “Who’d we have over?”

            “We’d have everybody over. Everyone from the bar, my sisters- not in that order, not _everyone_ from the bar- your friends from art class, that one idiot I liked from work- I had a friend from work, right?”

            Steve smiled, remembering. “I don’t think you’d invite anybody but Peter over. If you invited anyone at all.”

            “Right. Peter. Always helped me out when he took a spare shift. And the landlady. We’d have her over, of course. To make sure she didn’t raise the rent. Maybe dinner with my ma. Though I don’t know if that’d’a been a good idea, I- in the dream she knows. Doesn’t mind.”

            Steve found Bucky’s right hand with his left. “She loved you. The kids loved you.”

            “The kids loved _you_. They would’ve been ecstatic. But she… she wasn’t like your ma, Steve. She had other kids to worry about. Other examples to set.”

            Steve squeezed his hand. “If we were talking about what could have happened I wouldn’t still be little.”

            Bucky laughed. “Right. She’d come over, then, and your ma’d come over. She loved me. Hated the fights, though. They’d come at the same time to make sure I listened.”

            “Ma would’ve had to talk some sense into you before you moved in with me. Though I’m pretty sure she’d just have you at our place.”

            “Have to get a two-bedroom, Stevie. I’m not starting our married life taking things from your ma.”

            “Fine. So, we’re married, basically, we’ve got an apartment and a life and you’ve got a job doing-?”

            “I don’t know. Somethin’ steady. You’re doing art, of course. Makin’ a fortune. Don’t even need me anymore.”

            Steve hummed. “I’d still need you.” His head was on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky’s head was on Steve’s. They were slid into the worst position ever and Steve’s whole body hurt for an entirely different reason. “Got you now, though.”

            “Yeah. You got me. And I got you, whether you like it or not.”

            “The purple’s fine, Buck. Looks good.”

            “Purple library. Seventy years ago I wouldn’t have believed it.”

            “Well, we’re here now.”

            Bucky turned to look at him. “Yeah. Here now. Scandal of a century waiting to be made.”

            Steve nudged his shoulder. “Not a scandal. A good story, maybe. Whenever you want to tell it.”

            “I’m working on it, Steve. I- wait, you ready to go at the first sign of light? Go shouting my name from the rooftops soon as I give you the okay?”

            Steve was saying the words as he thought them, too fast, “If you’ll let me. When. Or- you don’t have to do anything, Buck, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything-”

            “Steve.” Bucky sounded so giddy Steve’s nerves stopped in an instant. “It’s okay that you want to tell people. I let you tell your family already. I’ll get there. I want to tell them about you, too.”

            “Yeah? Regale the media with stories of tiny me?”

            Bucky beamed. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” His smile faltered.

            “You’ll get there. You want to get there, you’ll get there. Didn’t think I’d be able to get here, and look at me.”

            “Art class,” Bucky said.

            “Yeah.” Steve squeezed his hand again and tried not to be nervous about it.

*

            Art class was the most relaxed environment Steve had been in since his house.

            He’d stopped by the yarn co-op to ask about it, figuring someone there would know a good place in the neighborhood. Jay had happened to be attending a local amateur class and said it was perfect for people who didn’t like to be judged, with a wink at Steve.

            Jay’d been right. None of the people in art class gave a shit who Steve was, either.

            Or not exactly didn’t care. They cared the right amount. Like, why do you wanna draw, Steve? Oh, that’s fascinating, but that model’s arm looks a little long on the left, don’t you think?

            It was perfect.

            “How’s your family doing?” They were in free-draw. Steve liked free-draw because it was close to how he used to practice as a kid: draw whatever you want within sight, just try to get it down, don’t worry too much about the details. Also you didn’t have to be quiet for free-draw, and Steve sometimes found the silence a little unnerving.

            “They’re fine.” Jay erased the tiniest bit of something and swooped back in with a pencil to redraw it. “Tom was happy to know I was gonna see you, actually. Said it’s important we keep our family connected to Captain America.”

            “Is that what he said?” Steve switched pencils and started on the angle of a chair leg. “He didn’t seem like the type to care much about things like that.” Steve was holding back telling anyone until he announced officially that he was no longer Captain America; plus he figured Tony, at least, would keep calling him ‘Cap’ regardless.

            Jay laughed. “Either way. Maybe you should find a project for him.”

            “Shit,” Steve said, dropping his pencil and making a mark on his work in the process. “Sorry. I mean, I haven’t seen Tom in a while. I think I- know someone who’d like to meet him. See who made the blender possible.” Steve had already dragged Bucky to the co-op (in a failed attempt to get him to start crocheting) while Jay was working and had therefore introduced them without the slightest hesitation, but Steve still didn’t like to mention Buck’s name in public. Seemed like a risk.

            Jay snorted. “He like the blender?”

            “Oh, yeah. Smoothies and milkshakes for days.”

            Jay glanced up at Steve. They were grinning. “Think he might make me one?”

            Steve almost dropped his pencil again. “Shit. Yes. I mean- sorry I- yeah, that’d be fine. Although I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with a coupla ninety-year-olds. Twenty-something kid like you?”

            “I’m not that fun.” Jay spun their work around to show Steve. “How’d I do?”

            Steve was looking at a picture of himself, the angles of his posture tight and his facial expression looser. With the marks Jay had gotten down, Steve’s face was a blurred expression of intense focus. “Do I really look like that when I’m concentrating?”

            “Jeez. Yeah, you really do. I’m asking about the other parts. Or all of it, I guess. That look like you to you?”

            “What? Oh, yeah. Definitely. Spitting image. I like the face, actually. You can tell my expression’s changing.”

            “I kind of just didn’t know what I was doing there, but thanks for the undeserved compliment.”

            “Anytime.” Steve sketched for a few minutes in silence. “You know, I think you should meet Buck.” He took a quick look around to make sure no one had heard the slip before continuing, “He’d like to meet you. For more than ten seconds, I mean. And I’ve already introduced him to everybody affiliated with the tower. Probably time to start branching out.”

            “You should get him to knit. I know the hand stuff can be frustrating, but it’s a lot easier than crocheting.”

            Steve shook his head. “I don’t know. Crocheting he could do more easily with one hand. Maybe.”

            Jay glanced at the ceiling as if for divine guidance. “Have you ever seen someone crochet, Steve?”

            “Of course I have. Little old ladies used to try and teach us youngsters so we’d stop fidgeting in mass.”

            Jay laughed. “Right. Well, if you remembered anything about crocheting, you’d know the wrist movements might make that a little hard. With one hand, I mean.”

            “He’s getting a new one, anyway. I just think it’d be nice. Something he could do other than- I don’t know, write, maybe, he’s always seemed like a writer to me, or draw. I don’t know. I’m probably being stupid. Painted the whole damned library the other day with one hand just fine.”

            Jay let out a low whistle. “You’ve got a library?”

            “Yeah,” Steve said. “I think you and Bucky would get along.” That one didn’t need censoring; no one was paying attention to them, and it was abstract enough that Steve could’ve said it anyhow. “Maybe I can get you two together under the pretense of knitting.”

            “Whatever you say, Steve. Don’t think I don’t know you’re just trying to turn your man into a blanket factory. Tom’ll tell you that’s not as peachy as it seems.”

            Steve threw a pencil at them. He missed by a mile.

*

            It took a week before SHIELD was ready to announce anything.

            But then it was official and everybody knew. Steve was out of the Avengers.

*

            “Stevie, can I-?”

            “No,” Steve said, curling tighter into himself. “No. I just need a minute.” He wrenched his limbs apart and stood, stumbled into the bathroom, shut the door.

            “You okay?” Bucky called, hiding the alarm in his voice well.

            “I’m fine,” Steve said. “I really just need a minute.”

            He was sitting on the floor. Cold tile. Helped focus him. Nothing like the heat of flames, nothing like Bucky’s warm hand slipping under his shirt when-

            No. Why were all Steve’s damned nightmares about temperature? Couldn’t they be about something more-

            Not that, either. Breathe. Just breathe through it, soldier. Don’t need reminding of that. Veteran. You’re a veteran. You don’t have to go back. Not unless everyone’s- Jesus-

            Steve’s breathing was ragged. More ragged than before. It was caught between the crying kind of breathing and the can’t-get-enough-air kind. Breathe, damnit. Bucky’s in there and he’s fine. You’re here and you’re fine. Safe in bed. You’re safe in bed.

            There were pills. In the bedside drawer. Bruce didn’t condone misuse of prescription medication, but he had told Steve they should work if he needed them. And to make sure and text him so Bruce kept an eye out in case anything- in case-

            Fuck, no. It’s alright. Don’t want to take a pill, fine. You don’t need to. It was a nightmare. Breathe. If you need it you’ll take it. Breathe. Bucky showed you how. Come on. In.

            Out.

            In.

            Out.

            Steve pulled the door open a crack and fell back, still breathing.

            “You okay?” Bucky’s face, doorway, bedside lamp on- backlit.

            “M’fine. Bad dream. M’fine.” Steve didn’t want to leave him not knowing.

            Bucky crouched down in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

            Steve shook his head. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. Just. Open the door.”

            Bucky pushed it wide and watched Steve breathe for a second. “Okay?”

            “Yes.” Steve had slowed his breathing to almost normal. He realized his arms were wrapped around his knees. The floor wasn’t cold anymore because he’d heated it up too fast. “It was cold. Not cold. Warm. The floor was cold and it helped wake me up. Dreamin’ about fire.”

            “Is there anything I can do?” Bucky’s eyes were wide. Muscles locked, not moving. Not reaching, even. Just offering. Anything.

            “Maybe some- some water?”

            “Can I come in to get it?”

            Steve nodded. Bucky walked around him, careful to keep a full foot of space between them, and filled the glass by the sink. He set it on the ground and went to sit in the doorway again. By the time he’d got back to sitting Steve was halfway through the water. Set it down when he was done.

            “Better?” Bucky asked.

            Steve nodded again. Counted to ten in his head. “Okay. I think it’s mostly gone.”

            “Do you want to get up? Go back to bed?”

            “Yeah. Think so.” Steve stood, slowly, and took a slow breath. He’d started getting cold with the water and didn’t like how close that was getting to too cold.

            Bucky scooted back into the bedroom and got back in bed, shifting the covers to leave enough room for Steve and some personal space.

            God, he was so good. “S’okay, Buck. Kinda cold now. Don’t know what’s wrong with me and stupid- temperatures-” Steve climbed into bed, tried to get comfortable.

            “You sure you’re okay?”

            “Yeah. M’fine. Just… hold my hand, for a minute, maybe? ‘Til I can…” Steve trailed off. Even with the blankets he was cold. But Buck had been so warm, and he didn’t want to jump to another extreme again, he needed time to adjust. He’d adjust. He was already back in bed. Five minutes after a nightmare and Steve was already back in bed.

            “Can I touch you?”

  
            “I just asked.”

            “I know, punk. I was just checking.” Bucky took his hand. “Okay?”

            “Yeah,” Steve was sinking, suddenly, the exhaustion of fending off the panic hitting him all at once. “M’good. Thanks, Buck.” He scooted a few inches closer. Pressed their arms together. “I just want to sleep.”

            “I know, sweetheart. I know.” Bucky was rubbing up and down the side of his hand a little. It was nice. Warm but not hot. “I love you.”

            “You’re a sap, Barnes. I love you, too.” Steve hovered on the edge of sleep. He wasn’t used to the rollercoaster of it. Coming down so hard, waking up so scared and feeling all warm and sleepy so soon after. No. Don’t do that. Bucky’s here. Don’t- it’s fine. Don’t keep yourself awake. You’re okay. Not even warm. Or cold. Just air conditioning and blankets. S’nothing. The dream was nothing. It’s over now.

            It’s really over now.

            Steve fell asleep.

            Slept better than he had in years.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one in this installment!

            Tony was fronting for PR. Calling up everybody who wanted a more detailed explanation and telling them Steve was out of the public eye for the time being. “Rogers is taking a much-needed vacation in more forgiving climes. I don’t know. Somewhere it doesn’t rain a lot? Somewhere the streets don’t smell quite as bad in the sun? Take your pick, we thought he could use some time off. Where’d you go? Hawaii? Yeah. Captain America probably stayed in America. No, he’s not in Florida. Think he’d stand a chance not getting recognized at Disney World? Honestly- no, I don’t know where he is. How many times do I have to tell you that? It’s a secret. SHIELD is keeping the information classified for everybody but the brass, and I, contrary to popular belief and the metal suit, am not technically the brass. What? Of course it’s safe. He’s Captain America. And it’s not like he doesn’t have SHIELD on speed-dial… honestly? Okay, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know if we’re SHIELD but I’m sure as shit still an Avenger, buddy, and you can quote me on that- I don’t know, not my job to sic the quotes for you!” Tony hung up and threw the phone on the coffee table. “These people are relentless. Were they this bad with all my vacations from being Iron Man?”

            Steve shrugged. “Not the one to ask.”

            “I was asking Jarvis.”

            “I don’t know, sir. To be perfectly frank the amount of filtering I do on a daily basis makes it difficult to tell if there was a significant increase in press activity around the times of your vacations.”

            “Great. Thanks anyway. Do you really want to go on vacation? Because I can cover you. Could use a damn break. Well, I mean, maybe. I’m fine. But Pepper needs a break. We’ll double. What do you say? Hawaii?”

            Steve laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather stay here.”

            “Hidden in plain sight. I like it. Good plan.” Tony leaned back on the sofa and did the hand movement that told Jarvis he wanted the TV on.

            He and Steve were waiting while Bucky and Bruce went over medical stuff in the lounge part of the med bay. They were a floor away. When Tony had recommended they rename the area the James Buchanan Barnes Wing Bucky had laughed. He looked so calm Steve agreed to leave him alone. “We’re doing good. I don’t want to fuck that up.”

            “Honesty and language from the star-spangled man himself. I mean, must be honest if you’re swearing, right? Only time you do it. That and, I don’t know, every time you twist your ankle on a landing, but hey, what’s more American than swearing, right? Or are you thinking of switching allegiances? Captain Algeria? Brazil? Congo?”

            “You’re just going in alphabetical order.”

            “Maybe so. Jarvis, can you get us something better than regular House Hunters? Sam’s won me over. Rather see the tropical ones. Or the tiny ones. Those are great. Lots of tech I could make better.”

            No sooner had Jarvis gotten a tiny house video on screen than Tony was rattling off ideas and taking notes on his phone about them. “Great use of space, though you could double it if you made that a folding oven- that’s right, Steve, I said a folding oven, this is true innovation right here- and speaking of heat that air conditioner would work much better on the left wall-”

            Two videos later Bruce and Bucky showed up. Bucky was grinning and had a new, real-looking arm. Well, save for a metal band looping from his shoulder to his armpit, but that was only visible because he was wearing a tank top again. “What are you doing?”

            “I’m watching true innovation,” Steve said as Bucky came to sit beside him.

            “Those walls need to be better insulated,” Bruce said, coming up behind Tony to lean on the back of the sofa.

            “I know. I’ve been doing heat first, it’s sort of a theme, I’m on storage now. Look at this closet.” Tony flung a hologram into the air in front of him. It was a much more sophisticated version of the tiny house closet being shown onscreen.

            “Nice. Think you could get a shoe rack in there?”

            “I don’t know. Tall order, Banner. Gonna take some thought. But I might be able to- oh, wait, what about here-”

            “He been doing this for long?” Bucky asked under his breath, grinning.

            “Nah. Just a couple videos. It’s kind of interesting, actually. Maybe because I can hear the video underneath all the innovation, but-” Steve shrugged.

            “Probably cooler since you built your own house.”

            Steve smiled. “I guess that helps.”

            “Hey, Robocop, how’s the arm?”

            Bucky shook his head. “Not your most original nickname, Stark. And it’s fine. I’m not allowed to fist Steve with it or anything, but-”

            His voice was drowned out by Steve, Tony, and Bruce yelling at once.

            “Did Nat tell you what I did when she explained that?”

            “Oh my god, my life is over, abort mission, I repeat, gods, if any of you can hear me, other than Thor, this is my time, not a drill I swear I have seen all I need to see and heard all I need to hear, no need to see it, please don’t do that to me-”

            “If you want to kill him, sure, go right ahead, but last time I checked it was good to limit sex acts to ones that, you know, for sure won’t kill you, but again, who am I to say, just a doctor in multiple directions, a trained neuroscientist, what would I know about it-”

            “-never going to hear the end of this. You know that. You know they’re going to bring this up at every Christmas party, Buck. Every wedding. It’ll be our wedding and the fucking toast will include Tony ranting about how his life was ruined by one single joke you made-”

            “-obvious that I’d be best man, yes, of course, granted you don’t manage to make each other that in some impossible fluke, Nat’ll be the other one, I can already tell, and great, now I’m scarred for life and I have to fight Sam for best man- yeah, gods, I guess I can live to see another day, I mean I didn’t see anything, though of course the mental image will haunt me for my remaining conscious days-”

            “-rip it off myself. Yeah. That’s it. I’ll go into snake staff green mode and Dr. Hulk that thing off you, and then the only fisting you’ll be doing is with your human hand, because I specifically said if you go past knuckles with that thing all bets are off, I mean, even if we’re talking emergency medicine here, you could rip tissue way too easily with that thing, it’s not a precision instrument, I’m not about to allow you to-”

            “Bruce. I’m durable and not crazy.”

            Everyone was staring at Steve.

            Ah, well. “What I mean to say is, if I get a bullet wound, and his hand is the closest thing I’ve got to a tool-”

            Tony laughed. “That sounded like it was going to ruin my life again for a second, thanks for that, Steve, really appreciate you turning it PG-13 for us-”

            “Is either of you trained more than that stupid SHIELD VHS? Because if that’s your only med training, I strongly recommend-”

            “You’re not getting shot.” Buck’s voice was steady and even.

            The other two went silent.

            “Okay, Steve?”

            Steve held his gaze. “Yeah, Buck. If I can help it.”

            Bucky looked away, barely stifling a smirk. “You always were too stubborn for your own good.”

            The other two kept talking while Steve just looked at him.

            “Oh my god, are they having a moment? Bruce, they’re having a moment. We should leave before I have to see things I do not want to see-”

            “You know, Tony, for a self-proclaimed slut you really can be a prude.”

            “They’re my friends. That’s the line in the sand, Banban. That’s it. If I’m not already in their pants I don’t want to know.”

            “Ah, shit. You have a point. I tried to tell you about that one bad date and you put your fingers in your ears-”

            “See? Wrong. I just proved you wrong through your own memory. Take that, super-college.”

            “Banban sounded better.”

            “It was cuter. I don’t know about better.”

            “Buck?”

            Bucky turned back to him. “Yeah, Stevie?”

            “I love you.”

            “Love you, too.”

            “WHY ARE YOU OFF THE GRID, STEVE? THAT WAS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. IT WAS CUTER THAN BANBAN. Oh, wait, you have super hearing, I don’t have to yell- wait, no, Bruce, you’re right, Banban is absolutely better- Barnes, if you don’t get some social media accounts and add me on them as soon as you’re legally not dead, I swear pool access will be revoked-”

            “Technically, sir, you are not authorized to revoke access to anything other than your private quarters within this tower.”

            Steve and Bucky started kissing all sweet and PG so as not to scar Tony for life or accidentally cause major bodily harm to Steve. Tony kept arguing with Bruce and Jarvis.

*

            Nat finally finished whatever it was she was doing in Egypt and met Steve for coffee a few blocks from his house.

            They talked about everything, all sorts of shit Steve shouldn’t know because it was probably illegal for Nat to tell him, all sorts of stuff Steve couldn’t have said on a non-secure line and really wanted to tell Nat. Things about Bucky, about his place, about his life. The art class where no one cared he was Captain America. The way Bucky got excited about new cooking ideas. Everything Steve was planning on doing to the yard once fall and winter finally gave way to spring.

            He’d always talked to Nat more than anyone else, except maybe Bucky; but Bucky and Steve had years and years of conversations. They could have a whole conversation with a look. And Sam was busy. They were talking about making him the next Captain America. Steve didn’t know how he felt about that. The rest of his friends were in danger all the time, sure, but- well- if Sam wanted to do it-

            No. Didn’t matter yet anyway. What mattered then was supporting Sam, and Nat, who Steve would not have recognized if he hadn’t seen her in disguise so many times.

            The only times Steve felt okay about saying Buck’s name in public were when he knew no one was around to overhear him. When he knew he was anonymous, like when he was talking to an expert spy in the middle of a coffee shop where he had yet to get a curious glance. Less paranoia than that date, for sure. Still. Steve hadn’t been going out as much since he’d agreed to the fake vacation plan. Didn’t want to risk being recognized. Nat’s skill at blending in helped his cover.

            Before they parted ways for Nat to attend more SHIELD meetings and Steve to go grocery shopping, Nat asked him an important question. “How are you, really?”

            “I think I’m doing okay.”

            “Yeah?” Nat asked, clearly unconvinced.

            “Yeah,” Steve smiled, made eye contact, made sure she got it, “I’m doing okay.”

            She grinned. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

            “I know.”

            A fond, knowing look warmed her expression. “Now go and help your boy.”

            Steve’s smile faltered a little as he went. But only a little. Because he knew he and Buck would always be holding onto each other. Holding each other up.

            No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. Your support has truly sustained me, and I look forward to launching part three of this series and going on a new adventure with all of you who want to come see Bucky's POV. I have other stories and a tumblr and all that, my username is the same as it is here


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